A Hand in Marriage
by llorolalluvia
Summary: A new Marriage Law is enacted to unite the quarreling Wizarding World across bloodlines using the ancient tradition of betrothal. But with a War at hand, Albus Dumbledore cannot allow his spy to marry... just anyone. Okay, okay, the marriage law thing is overdone... yadda yadda. It never gets old to me, and I think I'm way overdue for this fic. Please Read and Review!
1. Chapter 1

_I'm starting to think it's a requirement for SSHG authors to write a Marriage Law fic at some point… maybe not, but either way this has been stewing in my mind for quite some time, so I figured I might as well share it… I know I have unfinished projects and I have no business starting another one, but I just couldn't fight back the plot bunnies… sighs… oh well. I hope you enjoy it! _

…*~*J*~*…

Billowing black robes whipped out behind him, unfurling in angry snaps as students threw themselves out of his way. Severus Snape was angry and no one wanted to be the scapegoat.

Through the hallways he stalked, fist clenched around a paper at his side. Past classrooms, past portraits, past fellow professors who asked him what was wrong-to no avail. All of his attention was focused on his eventual destination. He was headed straight for the Headmaster's office.

Snapping the ridiculous password at the gargoyle, Severus stomped up the stairs, throwing open the Headmaster's door and shouting through its reluctant groan, "There had better be some sort of explanation, Albus."

As the Potions Master stood fuming, stance rigid, fists clenched, Albus Dumbledore glanced up from behind his half-moon spectacles with a twinkle in his eye. "Ah, Severus. Have a seat."

"Don't toy with me, old man. I haven't time for trivial niceties. What the _hell_ are we going to do about _this?!_" With a dramatic flourish, the dark-robed wizard threw the paper down on top of the Headmaster's desk.

"Of course, Severus," Albus answered, unaffected. "Sit down. Sherbet lemon?"

"Oh, to hell with your bloody sweets, Albus! This is a disaster! Haven't you seen today's Prophet?"

Albus only sighed. "Not yet, but I did anticipate that you would react violently to the news."

It was as if the old man had smacked him across the face. "You_ knew!?_"

"I tried to dissuade them, of course…"

"You're Albus Bloody Dumbledore! You '_tried_' to dissuade them? You could have stopped this with your left pinky finger, if you had bothered to so much as lift it!"

"Now, Severus, we must choose our battles wisely…"

"And you didn't think _this_ merited the effort?!"

"Forgive me for considering Voldemort a more pressing concern."

"They're completely unrelated, Albus. The two are not mutually exclusive."

Albus twiddled his fingers. "Yes, well, Cornelius gets touchy when I appear to have too much control."

Severus fumed silently, glaring fiery hatred into the other man's cool blue eyes. "You're putting me up on the auction block like a fattened summer piglet just _to keep up appearances!?_"

"If I had had a choice…"

"A choice!? Albus, this is insane!" the young spy threw up his hands, pacing the office restlessly. "What purpose could it possibly serve?"

"The Minister believes that the best way to counteract impending war is with a show of solidarity. By returning to this old tradition, they hope to appease those who believe we are losing our ways while simultaneously uniting our population across blood-status lines."

Severus stared down at his employer for a long moment, glaring like a petulant child. "Surely they could have come up with something… else."

"Yes, well, Cornelius often does act rashly on these matters, but what's done is done. It would be better for us to focus on what we can do about it now. Actually, I had been about to send for you…"

"Really? Thought to include me, did you? Thought maybe I'd like a say in my own bloody future?" Without waiting for Albus to respond, Severus dropped himself gracelessly into the chair he had been offered earlier and folded his arms across his chest.

"Now," the Headmaster began, everything else having been merely introduction, "the Marriage Law itself is not the issue." Severus snorted in disbelief and Albus raised an eyebrow, but continued. "_You_ are my primary concern. After all, as a half-blood you will be eligible for petitioning. All it will take is one pureblood to decide she'd like to get her hands on you, and you will have no choice in the matter. Of course, if more than one pureblood witch petitions for you…"

"Bloody likely…" Severus scoffed.

"…then you will have the choice. Alternatively, as a half-blood you are also eligible to petition for a witch half-blood or less. Obviously, I need to ensure that my spy is matched to someone who already knows your secrets… as you will have to live with her."

Severus groaned, pulling a hand down his face in defeat. "And to whom, may I ask, are you planning to _bind_ me?"

Albus's eyes twinkled. "I should think it would be obvious."

Severus narrowed his eyes at the old man. "You can't… I know you can't mean…"

"I am sorry, Severus. There is no other choice."

"Please, Albus. You must know someone else. _Anyone_ at all."

For once, the old man's crystal blue eyes seemed sincere in their apology. He shook his head, willing his spy to understand. "I'm afraid not, Severus," he sighed. "It must be Nymphadora."

…*~*J*~*…

"SURPRISE!"

Hermione was jolted out of slumber as a solid mass landed hard at the foot of her bed. Bolting upward, her forehead very nearly collided with something bright and pink before the object in question suddenly launched itself onto the other girl's bed.

"Wake up, sleepy-heads!" Tonks shouted happily, pulling Ginny's pillow from beneath her head only to smack her in the face with it. "It's CHRISTMAS!" And just like that, she was gone, sprinting through their open bedroom door and down the stairs as loudly as she could manage.

The twins appeared in the doorway bearing expressions of admiration for the bubbly Auror's display. "Good of old Remus to finally come around," Fred commented, taking a bite of a Christmas plum.

"Yeah," George agreed, "that Tonks is a right trip when she's happy."

Christmas breakfast was an arrangement of communal plates and bowls haphazardly situated around, beneath, and on top of gifts in various states of unwrapping. Colorful paper and ribbons and bows covered everything, including the floor, and excitement seemed to hum in the air to the tune of Christmas carols. Before meeting the Weasleys, Hermione had never seen anyone so excited to receive a sweater. Packages and sweets alike flew through the air from one ginger to another as she sat nibbling her bacon and eggs. And above it all, Tonks seemed to preside, tearing through a mountain of gifts and tossing them out to their respective recipients. When Remus Lupin appeared in the doorway, the Metamorphmagus unabashedly leapt onto the table, tripping her way down the length-and upsetting a bowl of figs in the process-to tackle her beloved werewolf from above.

"Easy now," Remus admonished, smiling tenderly at her even as he rubbed his freshly-cracked spine. Hermione had to shake her head at the odd couple, but glanced away when their mouths met, embarrassed by the sincerity of their passion. She caught Ginny staring openly at the tender display with an expression of hopeful longing. Seeming to sense the other girl's study, Ginny met Hermione's eye and smiled knowingly. Just last night, Remus had asked their opinion regarding a certain ring that he hoped to place on a certain witch's finger in the very near future. Even Hermione eagerly anticipated the announcement.

But as they all settled down to the table once more, Albus Dumbledore appeared in the doorway with a grim expression. Immediately, the merriment ceased and a murmur of dread descended upon them. Whatever the Headmaster had come to impart, it couldn't be good.

"I am afraid I have some unhappy Christmas tidings," he informed them, withdrawing a folded copy of the Daily Prophet. Tossing it into the middle of the table, the old man stood back as the others present scrambled to get a view of the title. It was Remus who unfolded the paper, holding it out for the others behind him to read.

_**CONTROVERSIAL MARRIAGE LAW TO TAKE EFFECT. 'RETURN TO TRADITION,' SAYS FUDGE.**_

There was a moment of shocked silence before the twins broke it with a murmured "Bloody hell."

Tonks ripped the paper from the werewolf's hands. "Ridiculous! Is this some sort of joke?"

"Oh, they've done it this time," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Now, now," her husband consoled, "I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation."

"Well," said Remus, standing from his place at the table, with some effort, and turning to the pink-haired witch, "I suppose this is an appropriate time," he grasped the back of her chair to help himself kneel, but was stopped by the Headmaster's hand on his shoulder.

"I'm afraid, Remus," the old man began in a weary voice, "that I need to speak with you and Nymphadora… alone."

A half hour later found Hermione sitting on the stairs, paper in hand, as Ginny paced outside the door to the little study. She had read the article a dozen times and still could make no sense of it. _Why_ would Fudge want to do something like this? _How_ could the Wizengamot just allow it? And perhaps most distressing, _what_ _if_ someone petitioned for _her?_

"Uggghh!" Ginny articulated, throwing up her hands in impatience. "_What_ could they be talking about in there?" Hermione only shrugged. The redhead had been asking the same question every two minutes for the past half hour. "It _can't_ be good, or why would Dumbledore have looked so grim? And why did he stop Remus from making his proposal? We _all_ knew that was what he was about to do."

"I don't know, Ginny, but it's out of our hands."

"Ugggh!"

As far as she could understand it, the Marriage Law, as it had been termed, pertained to witches and wizards between the ages of 18 and 65. That included her. Most of their year was still 17, but Hermione Granger was nearly a year ahead of the rest of them, and that was not including her Time-Turner days. Basically, the way the Law was set up, the Purer your blood the more options you had. No one could petition for someone with Purer blood than themselves, which meant anyone could petition for her. Telling herself to breathe, Hermione made a mental list of all the Pureblood men in her life who would jump at the opportunity to save her from her fate (ah, the benefits of living with Gryffindors). _If_ she was petitioned by another-and that was a big _IF_-she could simply have Ron petition for her and marry him instead. Now, of course that wasn't ideal, she cringed and pinched the bridge of her nose, but it also wasn't the end of the world.

More terrifying was the vague allusion to 'forced breeding,' as one of the sections of the law was said to detail. Hermione's hands itched to get her hands on the official paperwork. Until she did, the actual contents of the law would remain unclear.

The Study door opened with a bang and Tonks tore past them, brushing away a stream of tears. Ginny and Hermione were frozen with shock, staring after the other witch. Fear burned across Hermione's skin as she turned back to see Lupin in the doorway. The werewolf seemed to have aged a decade. Lines of worry and despair pulled at his sharp features as he rubbed his forehead with weary resignation. "Remus?" Ginny breathed, reaching a hand out to touch the man's arm.

Remus brushed her off of him and shook his head. "Not now," he murmured, sounding broken. Then he brushed past her as well.

The door to Twelve Grimmauld shut with a weak, unsatisfying click and the girls were left in silence. Ginny's eyes turned up to hers, wide with fright and confusion. Then she, too, hurried up the stairs, presumably in pursuit of Tonks. Hermione was torn between following her friend and remaining on the stair, contemplating her own worries and her feet.

When the Headmaster emerged from the Study, looking as old as he probably was, Hermione couldn't help the question. "They aren't getting married, are they?"

Dumbledore looked up at her and hesitated before shaking his head. "I am afraid not," he told her in a weary voice.

Somehow, the hard certainty of that statement sent a fire of anger through Hermione's heart. It was the same fire that had ignited when she first learned about the Hogwarts House Elves, or when Umbridge had forced Harry to carve up his own hand. "_Why?_" was all she could say to sum up this feeling of righteous indignation. But though the Headmaster clearly had a world of knowledge to impart, he said nothing in answer to her question. In response, she stood from her place on the stairs and stomped down to stand before him. "I mean, why _them?_ Why Tonks and Remus? Why can't they just be left alone?"

The old man's sad eyes stared down at her in understanding. "Oh Hermione," he murmured in such a patronizing, grandfatherly tone that the young Gryffindor visibly bristled. "You have always been so compassionate. The first one to triumph the underdog's cause." He lifted a hand to her shoulder with an air of breaking some terrible news. "My child," he said. "Nymphadora… is the only witch in the Order… who can marry Severus Snape."

…*~*J*~*…

So. Professor Snape was a half-blood. That certainly was a surprise, but more intriguing was the notion of the famously proud man stooping to accept charity from Nymphadora Tonks. It must have been quite a blow to his ego to have to turn to Sirius's cousin and Remus's lover to save him from this awful Law. For once, the austere Slytherin was the victim in need of saving. It almost made her like him a little bit more.

Almost.

Hermione brushed her chin with the tip of her quill, having lost interest in the notes she had been taking. _Wow. How embarrassing for him!_ And naturally, of course, everyone in the Order would only hate him more because of this. That was unfortunate. He was truly stepping into the Lion's Den. Which was ironic because Tonks was definitely a Badger.

The door to the Study opened and Hermione swung her legs down from the arm of the couch and oriented her body toward the door. It was Ginny, looking angry as an evicted Garden Gnome. "Tonks is inconsolable," she said. "You won't believe what Dumbledore said. She has to marry Snape! Can you believe it? The Greasy Git! Of all the terrible luck…"

"How is she?"

"Well her hair is brown again, if that tells you anything. Gods' truth, I was afraid to leave her alone."

"You don't think she might… do something rash?"

"Nah. I thought about that at first, but it wouldn't make sense. She'd sooner run away with Remus and leave Snape to his bloody fate than do something like that."

Hermione sighed with relief. "That's a good point."

"What are we going to do?" Ginny groaned, flopping down onto the couch.

"I don't know," said Hermione. For her, helplessness was the worst feeling in the world.

Tonks did not show up for dinner, but Mrs. Weasley prepared a plate for her anyway and handed it to Ginny. "Wait," Hermione was suddenly compelled to say. "Let me take it to her." For some reason, she felt like she needed to see the young Auror.

The landing outside of Tonks's bedroom was completely silent. Had she expected to hear sobbing through the door? Somehow, the absence of sound struck a chord far sadder than crying. She knocked on the door, expecting no answer and getting none. "Tonks," she called gently, "it's Hermione. Can I come in?"

Torn by the lack of response, the young Gryffindor decided that maybe Tonks had gone to sleep, and that she should leave the plate on her bedside table just in case. But the grimy hallway light landed on a face that was certainly awake, staring off at the far wall with unseeing eyes. For a moment, Hermione's heart plummeted, but the witch's body was slowly rising and falling with the living rhythm of breath.

"I've brought you something to eat," Hermione said, trying to sound persuasive. She set the plate on the little nightstand, but couldn't force herself to leave. "Tonks?" she whispered, sitting on the bed beside the other witch. "Are you alright?"

With those words, the Metamorphmagus heaved a heavy sigh, squeezing her eyes shut as tears leaked out from behind them. Her breath caught on a sob as she buried her face in her arms. The image broke Hermione's heart.

Some instinct drove the younger witch to run a hand through her friend's mousy hair. Even her skin seemed to have been leeched of color; drained to an unnatural grey. "It'll be alright. They'll overturn this law in no time. You just wait. I won't rest until I've seen it overthrown."

But Tonks's slender frame began to shake with sobs as sad sniffles told Hermione that she was holding back. Nothing she could say could make this better. Nothing she could do.

But _no_. She would not stand for it. She would not sit by idly and watch something so perfect fall apart. How could she allow two good friends and two of the best people that she knew to suffer if there was something she could do? And wasn't there? Fire seemed to inflate her chest with an uncomfortable sensation of restraint as she descended the stairs. Could it be coincidence that Dumbledore was there? He appeared in the doorway of Twelve Grimmauld just as she made it to the bottom, and Hermione knew immediately just what she had to do. "Professor Dumbledore," she said, facing him square on and looking him straight in the eye, "I need to talk to you."

The old man's eyes sparkled behind those half-moon specs, and he smiled down at her. "Yes, Miss Granger," he said. "I had a feeling you would."

…*~*J*~*…

_Please Review!_

_:} llorolalluvia_


	2. Chapter 2

"A return to tradition, Albus? Uniting the Wizarding World?" Severus dropped a stack of papers on the Headmaster's desk and leaned across the surface, glaring at the older man conspiratorially. "It's all a ruse! They're putting Monitoring Charms in place, so the whole thing is just masking an attempt to track us!"

Dumbledore was not phased by this information. "Good morning, Severus."

"Don't 'good morning' me, old man. This is a disaster!"

"Yes, and you always were drawn to the dramatic. By the way, you no longer have to marry Nymphadora."

The Potions Master froze, staring down at his employer for a solid moment in uncertainty. "I no longer…"

"I do not mean to suggest that you have escaped the Law. Merely that another witch in a similar predicament has volunteered to tie herself to you."

"_Volunteered?_"

"Indeed. As she is subject to the Law, herself, it only makes sense to pair the two of you and let Remus have his bride."

There was a moment of charged silence before the younger wizard spoke. "And once again I have no choice in the matter?"

"Now, Severus, I am sure you do not mean to suggest that you would rob Remus of his happiness when presented with an alternative?"

The dark wizard scoffed, scowling. "Far be it for me to ruin the happiness of a Gryffindor."

"Anyway, I think this new arrangement will be better for you, as well. She is more like you than you know; intellectual, independent, _stubborn."_

"Are you going to make me guess, old man?"

"The two of you have similarly passionate dispositions. Of course, that might make for some interesting arguments. Oh, to be a fly on the wall of that first fight…"

"Albus…"

"The only problematic consideration, of course, will be the age difference."

The Slytherin spy glared down at the older man. His worst fears were coming true before his eyes. Now the bastard was going to pair him with some old biddy! Images of Hestia Jones and Emmeline Vance began to flash through his mind. And then… _oh gods… please not… _"Don't tell me it's Minerva."

The Headmaster had the gall to chuckle at that. "It is not Minerva."

Severus slumped with relief only to tense again when he caught the twinkle in the other man's eyes. "Put me out of my misery, old man," he said, bracing for impact. He felt like a convict awaiting sentence to Azkaban-and he knew the feeling only too well, after all. But Albus only smiled kindly and reached a hand across the desk, as if to console him. Whatever the answer was, it couldn't possibly be good.

…*~*J*~*…

"You don't have to do this, Hermione." Remus's concern hid a sort of desperate hope. The lines on his face had faded and his skin had a healthy glow. But his eyes were wary. This was a man who had learned not to hope too much.

"I know," the young Gryffindor answered, taking a bite of her toast and brushing crumbs from the papers in front of her. "Besides, I am subject to the law, myself. If anyone were to petition for me, we'd have to find another suitor. This arrangement kills two birds with one stone… so to speak."

"Oh, Hermione. You know Ron would gladly volunteer."

"I know, Remus, and of course that would be easier for me. But both of us would still only be doing it because of the Law, and the two of you really love each other."

Remus reached across the table to cover her hand with his own. The look of pride and gratitude in his eyes only made her stomach twist up into knots. She wished everyone would stop reminding her how difficult this was actually going to be.

Just then, the door burst open and Tonks appeared. Her hair was bright pink again and her smile seemed to light up the room. Jumping into her werewolf's arms, the Metamorphmagus peppered his scruffy face with kisses, heedless of the audience in the room. When she finally pulled away, Tonks practically fell across the table, clasping both of Hermione's hands-sending a piece of toast to the floor in the process-and beaming into her eyes. "Oh, Hermione, you little angel! You just don't know!" The pink-haired witch yanked her up and kissed her happily on each of her cheeks.

"Don't mention it," Hermione murmured, smirking at the other woman as she settled back into her chair.

"Remus Lupin!" Tonks declared, turning back to her shaggy lover. "Take me upstairs so I can do unspeakably naughty things to you!" The werewolf blushed, glancing awkwardly in Hermione's direction before allowing himself to be pulled from the room.

Alone once again, Hermione heaved a heavy sigh and turned back to the letter of the Law. Dumbledore had brought her a copy this morning, and she'd been pouring over it ever since. The truth was, the more she read about it, the more terrified she became. _Oh, Merlin. What have I gotten myself into?_ Not only were the couples required to procreate, they were monitored 'to ensure weekly copulation.' It was a nightmare! She could only hope that Dumbledore had some ideas about how to get around that part, but as he had not had a way around the rest of the Law, her hope was feeble. Closing her eyes, Hermione couldn't help the uncharitable vision of her professor that came to mind: fully clothed, robes and all, panting and heaving above her prone body like a mating bat. She shuddered. And then she was filled with shame for having conjured such an image of the man. After all, it was her own fault they were to be paired together. That was a sacrifice she was willing to make. For Remus and Tonks. _Remus and Tonks. Remus and Tonks,_ she chanted, pinching her eyes closed to keep her focus on the goal. Now that the two were happily out of harm's way, that fire which had led her to tell Dumbledore that she would take the other witch's place had been snuffed out. There was no one to save anymore. No one, that is, except herself.

She glanced at the clock. Just a quarter of an hour before Dumbledore had promised to return. With her fiancé. _Oh Merlin._ Hermione rested her head in her hands, staring down at the parchment before her through a hazy fog of curls. Nervousness poured like acid into her stomach at the thought of what he might say. If she had thought that the idea of him accepting help from a Hufflepuff was bad, she didn't want to know how he'd react to a Gryffindor. It was bound to be painfully humiliating; accepting thanks from such a proud man. How could she possibly respond without seeming too self-righteous? After all, she wasn't doing this for him.

The door opened and someone entered, though she did not glance up to determine who. "Hey, 'Mione," Ron's voice said as the boy sidled over to his friend and slipped into the chair next to hers. "Whatcha doin'?"

"I'm reading over the terms of the new Marriage Law," she answered in a weary voice.

"Oh," he said, immediately bored.

More footsteps stopped in the open door and Harry's voice broke the cautious rhythm of her thoughts. "Hey, is there an Order meeting today?" he asked.

The answer was 'no,' but Ron seemed to consider. "I dunno, why?"

"Because Snape's in the hall upstairs."

Hermione's head snapped up at that and her heart was immediately pounding. "He's here?" she screeched. _A full quarter hour early?!_

"Yeah," said Harry. The boys were staring at her in alarmed confusion. They didn't know yet.

Hermione suddenly straightened in her chair, pushing away her breakfast and shuffling the papers into one neat pile. Heat burned in her cheeks and nerves twisted in her belly.

"Alright there, 'Mione?" Ron asked. Her friends were understandably concerned.

"I'm fine," she snapped.

"Yeah, alright," Harry said, cautiously stepping toward her, "except you really don't seem fine."

And then Dumbledore was in the doorway and Hermione's heart leapt. "Ah, Harry," he said, "Ron. Sirius was hoping the two of you might join him in the attic. Apparently it's time for Buckbeak's breakfast."

"Brilliant!" Ron grinned at Harry and the two turned eagerly toward the door, hurrying out so that they wouldn't miss the feeding. But Ron stopped on the threshold and turned back to Hermione. "You coming?" he asked.

Dumbledore answered for her. "I'm afraid Miss Granger will have to miss out. We have other business to discuss." Her redheaded best friend frowned in confusion but left without another word.

When they were gone, the Headmaster stepped aside and Professor Snape swept into the room. His sudden appearance took her breath away. Why on Earth was she so nervous? Of course, it didn't help that his dark form towered over her and his scowl seemed to sink into her soul. Then Dumbledore was closing the kitchen door, shutting himself out and the two of them together without so much as an "I'll leave you to it." She was trapped.

For a long moment, he just stood there, cold black eyes boring into frightened brown ones. Somehow, Hermione didn't think he was about to thank her.

"I want you to understand," Snape said at last, his posture rigid as if with restraint, "that I was not given a choice in the matter. If I had been, I would have chosen that metamorphing _clutz_… over _you_." Hermione's jaw fell open. _Why, of all the ungrateful…_ "You have _read_ the law, haven't you?" he asked in his most acidic voice. Raising one peeved eyebrow, Hermione simply lifted the papers in front of her in one hand and let them drop back down to the table. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Then you must know what we will have to _do_, if you go through with this."

At that, Hermione found her voice. "_If_ I go through with this?"

"Yes."

"Oh, I _am_ going through with this. Sir." The response was automatic, but his continuing glare ignited a fire of righteous indignation in her belly. "And, what's more," she continued, fanning the smoldering flames, "I believe it's only logical that I should. It would be senseless to drag Tonks and Remus into this mess when I'm up for petitioning as well."

Snape brought a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as if she were trying his patience. "Miss Granger," he began in his most patronizing tone, "I am your professor. I am twice your age. Look at you." He gestured to her with dismissive wave of his hand. "You're still a _child_."

"I am _not_ a child," Hermione returned with an edge in her voice. "I am legally an adult and subject to this new law, the same as you. Besides, sir, I think you and I both know I've seen and done things beyond my years."

At that, Snape was suddenly upon her, slamming his palms down on the kitchen table and glaring her straight in the face. "You think you are so grown up," he spat, his eyes flashing. Hermione couldn't keep from flinching away from him in sudden fear. "You think you have _seen the world_." She opened her mouth to dispute this notion, but he didn't give her the chance. "You think reading a few books can make up for a lifetime of experience. You think you're better than the rest. Well, I see you as you really are; a pampered little Gryffindor _brat!_"

"_Pampered_?!"

"Yes, and any denial on your part is only proof of your ignorance."

"Well if I'm so young and innocent, then how does that reflect on you for shouting insults at me?"

Snape scoffed wickedly. "Innocent, are you? Miss Granger, in the time I have known you, you have broken more rules…"

"_Innocent _in the ways of the world, as you put it. I have no _experience_, you say."

The anger suddenly drained from her professor's face as his eyes grew wide with comprehension as he straightened to his full height and stepped away from her. She hadn't _exactly_ meant it like that. That is, she _had_, but she hadn't expected it to have such a dramatic effect on the man. Heat rose in her face as she turned her eyes down to her fiddling fingers. She was surprised to see that he was… surprised. At last he spoke. "Another reason not to go through with this."

"But…"

"There are a hundred men-boys-of your acquaintance who would make a better partner for you than me."

"Well, that's not really what this is about, is it?"

"No. Apparently it's about your bloody Gryffindor Saviour Complex."

"If you mean that I am not afraid to take advantage when it is in my power to make other people happy…"

"I _mean_ that you get off on it," he spat.

Hermione was taken aback by his vulgarity. Apparently her professor's anger was stronger than he was letting on. "Well," she said, incensed, "if you think I'm going to ruin three extra lives just to prove you wrong…"

"_Three?_"

"_Yes_. Tonks, obviously, Remus, and probably Ron…"

"They would survive."

"And so will you!"

Again, her professor slammed his hands down on the table, hunching over it, presumably in an effort to intimidate her. He hardly needed try. "I might _rather_ die than bring a child into my bed!" he shouted.

Furious, Hermione leapt up. "You think _I'm_ looking forward to it?!"

"You're the one with the power to _prevent_ it!"

"Too bad I'm not as selfish as you!"

"I'm twenty years older than you! It's _perverse!_"

"Yes, and Tonks is a full _six_ years older than me!"

"_Six years_ is a third of your age!"

"Yeah? Well you know what I think?!"

"WHAT?!"

"I think you don't care so much about the age as you do about the fact that it's _me_, because you've hated me since my very first day in your class and you DON'T WANT ONE OF YOUR ENEMIES TO SEE BEHIND YOUR MASK!"

Her professor was silent. His eyes became slits and he glared at her with churning fire in those dark depths as she panted into the deadly silence of the kitchen. When he spoke, his voice was calm and low and dangerous. "Do not make the mistake of believing that you will ever see that part of me, Miss Granger. Wife or not, you will remain my _enemy_, as you say. And _I_ will remain yours."

Hermione gawked at the older man. "Well that's just silly," she told him, completely at a loss.

"No," he growled, his anger spiking once again, "what's _silly_ is the bloody Ministry and this _ruddy, stupid Law!_"

The young Gryffindor smirked up at her professor. "You see? We're in agreement on that, at least."

But the Slytherin only glared at her, narrowing his eyes. "We're not a team, Miss Granger," he said, straightening to his full, intimidating height. "You aren't going to _recruit _me to your cause. I'm old and set in my ways, so if you're harboring the deluded notion that you will be able to _soften_ me in any way, you are terribly mistaken. The sooner you accept that, the less effort you will waste in the interim." At that, he spun away from her and swept toward the door. "If you will not see reason," he growled, turning back to her with his hand on the doorknob, " then we are done here." And without so much as another word, her professor threw open the door, sweeping past a smiling Albus Dumbledore and disappearing down the hall.

Dumbledore shuffled into the kitchen. "Well, that could have been worse," he said cheerily. But the young Gryffindor wasn't listening. Snape's last words kept ringing in her mind, and Hermione swore, right then and there, that somehow she was going to prove him wrong.

…*~*J*~*…

_A HUGE THANKS to everyone who Reviewed/PM-ed me about the first chapter! __**Cause-and-Author, DogLover007, incoherentlove, IShouldBeWritingSomethingElse, Her Royal Goddess, Lunajen323, snapemanic, fifiotoole, VeSiHer, Eskarina Dagworth, mstngkmmy, SereniteRose, articcat621, dragoon109, albabuenestadorebeca, Gemini Sister, ReDish, just an anon reader, Bubblegum, stexgirl2000, Viteali, ashleyworman, Hada, leelahmarie, gloryandfame, kmjb, Kyria Lorelei, viola1701e, doctor odes, meg527, jensteed, Amarenima Redwood, irononmaiden, marzipan4, BlueBeast73, Perry Downing, Julia Ba, catsgotmytongue, Michelle, rivruskende, AdelaideArcher, and several Guests!**__ You guys are awesome! I'm sorry I didn't respond to all of the Reviews, but I want you to know that each and every one of them brought a smile to my face and made me want to get writing that second chapter. I hope you liked it! Please let me know what you think! _

_:} llorolalluvia_


	3. Chapter 3

Apparently it was a part of the Gryffindor Honor Code that any and every male affiliated with a witch was supposed to defend her from the encroaching Slytherin. Severus felt like the dragon who stole the princess from her tower. Now all the little heroes wanted a shot at slaying him to free their damsel from her fearsome captor. Of course, if the analogy were really accurate, said damsel was the one who leapt out of the window and onto the dragon's back, attempting to break him to her will. As if she ever could. Well, hopefully she didn't get scorched in the process. But honestly, it would serve her right.

His arch nemesis, Sirius Black, and the youngest Weasley boy had each started shouting matches with him earlier that very day. Arthur Weasley had given him a stern talk about how the little angel never put herself first, and how he should keep in mind that no matter how steadfast she seemed to be she was still only a girl. Ha. As if he needed reminding. And now it appeared to be Potter's turn. Harry Potter. The Chosen One. The Golden Child. The Boy Who Lived. If anyone was going to slay the dragon, it would be him. The miserable wretch had already killed one giant snake. But this Knight in Shining Armor was barking up the wrong dragon… so to speak. There wasn't anything Severus could do. After all, it wasn't like he hadn't tried.

"Professor," the boy began, cornering him at the top of the stairs. "Can I talk to you?"

"Apparently you can."

"Look," Potter sighed. This seemed to be quite difficult for him. "I know there's nothing you can do to stop this." Severus was taken aback. This was certainly a different approach. But the boy was doing his best to avoid his professor's eyes. "Hermione's unstoppable when she decides to do something."

"Well at least one of you…"

"And I know she seems strong," Potter cut him off. He had an air of needing to finish what he'd come to say before he could change his mind. "But really she doesn't have a clue what she's getting into. I guess I'm just trying to say… please don't make this any harder for her than it has to be." Finally those bright green eyes met his with an ardent plea. Severus didn't know what to say. "She's always stood up for you, you know. I mean… she respects you a lot." Blessedly, Potter lowered those eyes, almost sheepishly staring at the floor. "So just… please don't prove her wrong."

The boy left without another word, apparently too embarrassed by his cloying words to await the man's response. For his part, Severus was left to fume in silent rage at his presumption. What nerve! To suggest that he had any sort of responsibility toward the girl… to put that weight on his shoulders… why if she had such high opinions of him, either she would be proven wrong or she wouldn't be. But who was Harry Potter to suggest that it would take serious effort on Severus's part to live up to such expectations? Who was Harry Bloody Potter to suggest that he _ought_ to do just that!?

And anyway… it wasn't as if he _planned_ to hurt the girl.

Severus swept toward the door, deciding that he was far too early for the New Year's Eve festivities and that he would return as close to the punch line as possible. No need to spend more time than he had to with this bunch, after all. He had work to do. But as he passed the door to the Black Family Library, he caught sight of his bride to be. Her nose was buried in a book (_Typical_) and she was stretched out on the couch. The most shapeless jumper he had ever seen smothered her tiny frame and that miserable hair covered her face from his view. Looking at her, all he could see was that buck-toothed First Year, waving her arm in the air. And soon he would have to fuck her.

'Repulsed' didn't begin to describe it.

When he returned that night, near the stroke of twelve, he had it in mind to try one last time to dissuade the chit. Making his way toward her, he was cut off as the crowd of witches and wizards gathered began to count down, staring at the grandfather clock. Glasses of champagne were raised in the air and the excitement was tangible. How utterly absurd. It wasn't as if the New Year came with anything exciting, in and of itself. The Earth didn't celebrate this particular position in its cycle around the sun. But he'd let the cheering die down before he pulled the girl aside.

But then the strangest thing happened. The minute hand reached its apex and before it had even had a chance to begin its descent, all of the mated pairs of witches and wizards in the room simultaneously wrapped their arms around each other and caught lips. It was as if perhaps there really was some strange magnetic phenomenon in the first second of each New Year. Noting this, it became even more awkward that he was standing beside his betrothed. She seemed to sense it, too, if her awkward shifting from one foot to the other was any indication. Did she honestly think he had come over here just to kiss her? Idiot girl.

He was just about to disabuse her of this ridiculous notion-assuming, of course, that the thought had crossed her mind-when there was a collective intake of breath and all of the attention shifted from the ignorant clock to a couple in the back of the room. Remus Lupin was making an arse of himself by kneeling down on one knee, for no apparent reason, in front of his chosen witch, Nymphadora. He withdrew a tiny box from his shabby jumper pocket and the woman looked, for once, completely at a loss for words.

"Dora," the wizard said to an inexplicable flutter of excitement from the witches in the room. "I don't know how I was ever fortunate enough to meet you, but you make me happier than I ever knew that I could be. I want you by my side for the rest of my life… if you'll have me..."

"Yes!" the pink-haired witch gasped excitedly.

"Will you…"

"Yes! Yes, oh yes, Remus! Yes!"

"Marry me?"

"Yes!" The impatient witch suddenly tackled her werewolf, knocking him backwards onto his arse. Their faces melted together as the others in the room awkwardly turned away from the excessive display of affection. To Severus, it seemed as if they were almost accustomed to this sort of behavior. He shook his head, turning back to the girl beside him, preparing to put in one last attempt. But her eyes were glued to the practically mating couple with a look of such unadulterated, sincere happiness that he knew it was no use. Were those tears in her eyes? Yes, there was no denying it. He had already lost.

…*~*J*~*…

Professor Dumbledore believed it would be best to have them married and settled into the Potion Master's chambers before the rest of the student population returned from Christmas hols. And that meant today. Hermione had expected to be nervous, but making arrangements for this to actually take place was more nerve-wracking than she had realized it would be. Now, it really felt real. Staring into her closet, she couldn't help but wonder at the strangeness of it all. For one, she certainly hadn't expected to choose her 'Wedding Gown' from the clothes she'd stuffed into her luggage for two weeks at Grimmauld.

There was a tap at the door and Ginny entered. "So… today's the big day, huh?"

"Apparently," Hermione muttered glumly. It wasn't that she regretted this decision; far from it. But she wasn't exactly looking forward to it, either.

"Looking for something to wear?"

The older girl grunted in the affirmative. "Trying to decide. We're just going to the Ministry and signing some papers. Snape will probably roll his eyes if I wear anything more than jeans and a jumper. But…"

"But it's still your wedding day," the redhead finished for her. Hermione nodded. Ginny chewed her lip. "Stay right there," she said suddenly, "I'll be right back." And then she hurried back out into the hall.

When Ginny returned, what seemed like hours later, it was with Tonks and Mrs. Weasley at her heels. Tonks was carrying a bundle of white knit which she threw casually at the other girl. Hermione flinched, but caught it, staring wide-eyed at the other witches.

"We found an old jumper and did some minor Transfigurations," Ginny explained.

"The least we could do, really," Tonks added, almost sheepishly.

Hermione unfolded the item and took a look at her wedding gown. It was a simple sweater dress, mid-length and a rich, warm cream. A lump formed in her throat.

"Put it on so Mum can alter it to your size," Ginny told her, staring unabashedly into her eyes. The other witches backed out the door, but Tonks had to grab Ginny's elbow before she even thought to follow. Never much for modesty, was Ginny.

Trying the thing on sent a flutter of nerves through Hermione, and then a jolt of panic when it turned out to be nothing so much as a huge wad of knit practically swallowing her whole. She let the other witches back into the room, smirking shyly at the funny way the material hung on her bony frame. But Mrs. Weasley smiled kindly, setting to work without a word and slowly shrinking the item to fit snugly against Hermione's slender form.

The sleeves were long, but the dress left her shoulders bare ("My idea," Ginny told her with a wink). The hem reached just a few inches above the knee, which seemed appropriate and subtly sexy all at once. Looking down at herself, Hermione couldn't help but smile. But when they turned her around to face the mirror, the image took her breath away. It was perfect.

"Hermione!" said Ginny. "You look fantastic!"

"Beautiful," Mrs. Weasley whispered, tears suddenly filling her warm brown eyes.

Tonks shook her head in apparent awe. "Snape won't know what hit him."

"It's not," Hermione began sheepishly, tugging on one tight sleeve, "too much?" But the other witches all fervently began to shake their heads. They were smirking at her with strange expressions of something akin to triumph and Hermione began to feel it, too. This was her day, damn it. And she was wearing white.

..*~*J*~*…

"What could possibly be taking so long?" Severus growled. He was pacing in the front hall of Twelve Grimmauld, waiting for his bratty little bride.

Albus only twinkled knowingly. "It is my understanding that witches take inordinate amounts of time to ready themselves for such occasions. The hair… in particular… seems to be quite a process."

Severus snorted. "If they're attempting to tame that ridiculous bush on top of her head, we'll be here all day. And anyway who is she trying to impress? We're only signing a few papers." At that, the Slytherin stopped short, whipping around to face his employer with an expression of utmost dread. "We _are_ only signing a few papers, aren't we?"

"It's not too late to opt for a full ceremony, if you prefer."

"Don't be ridiculous, Albus." The dark wizard had only just continued his pacing when Miss Weasley suddenly bolted down the stairs, bypassing him with a smirk and throwing open the door to the library.

"Guys," she called into the room, "Hermione's coming down." Next, Molly appeared at the bottom of the stairs, clapping excitedly as an exquisite stranger appeared. Severus had to shake his head. It was Granger. Her hair was pulled back into one thick braid and she wore a dress that was nearly immodestly snug. And good god, she had breasts. And hips. And legs. When had she gotten those? Who gave her permission? He realized he was staring as she walked toward him with an uncertain smile, and he scowled in answer. Suddenly, it was as if the hall had been flooded with people. Remus and Potter and every Weasley on the whole damned planet poured out of the library.

"Hermione!" the twins shouted in unison. The girl in question stepped right past her intended and into the waiting arms of the other men. Severus watched as they all seemed to want to take a turn.

"You look beautiful!"

"Like a… bride!"

"You sure you want to go through with this? It's not too late…"

Granger laughed a delicate tinkling laugh that immediately grated on Severus's nerves. "I'm afraid it is too late, Ron," she said. Severus scowled. Not that he hadn't already been scowling. But he scowled even harder. What right did these boys think they had touching… embracing… taking _liberties_ with _his_ wife?

…soon-to-be wife.

Well, when they were married, he would make sure no other man could touch her. Not that he was jealous. It was a matter of pride.

Albus Dumbledore stepped forward, clearing his throat. "You look lovely, my dear," he told the girl. "Are you ready?"

"I… yes," she told him, nodding as if to convince herself.

"Then we'd best be off."

Their departure from the house was followed by a crowd of waving witches and wizards and a slew of shouted 'Best wishes's, 'Good luck's, and one "Go break in that old Slytherin bed!" shouted by the Weasley twins through obnoxious grins, which Severus answered with a scowl. He didn't know much about weddings, but he was pretty sure there shouldn't have been so much scowling involved.

…*~*J*~*…

They made quite a sight. That was for sure. Hermione was embarrassed by the number of wizards whose eyes seemed to follow her as they trailed through the marble halls. But she was amused to see that Snape's glare could part the sea of Ministry employees the way it would a crowd of Hufflepuff First Years. It was not a wonder when the official in charge of marriage certificates gave them an odd, calculating look. He was a short, pretentious looking man with spectacles and a weak chin. And he was officiating her marriage. It was hard to tell if he was serious or being an arse when he asked which of the two men (Dumbledore or Snape) was to be the groom. Snape gave the man a death glare. Then they signed some papers and that was it. "I now pronounce you Man and Wife," the official tossed off in a dry, sarcastic tone. Hermione was pretty sure the man didn't actually have to say that and just thought he was being clever. It made her scowl. Instinctively she turned to her now-husband. Strange. Her husband. Her tall, dark, intimidating professor-husband. Strange. But he just scowled down at her, making it perfectly clear he was certainly _not_ going to kiss her. Had she expected him to? No. Certainly not. Well, she could scowl just as well as he could.

Honestly, Hermione didn't know much about weddings, but she was pretty sure there shouldn't have been so much scowling involved.

…*~*J*~*…

_A HUGE Thank You to __**excessively perky, Brightki, Karli1252, jensteed, Sassyluv, Hannoie, meg527, Very Small Prophet, viola1701e, Lorna brownie, mystery, RhodaBush, thechit, BlueBeast73, stexgirl2000, ahemmeri, Viteali Varishta, ReDish, gloryandfame, Artemis, rivruskende, Hada, AmeliaDoloreFan21, Amarenima Redwood, piano mouse, Mikena, marzipan4, Fantomette34, Her Royal Goddess, and several Guests**__ for Reviewing my last Chapter! I can't tell you how much I appreciate your support, but just know that it really makes my day to hear from you guys, so thank you SO MUCH!_

_Special SPECIAL Thanks to gloryandfame who created the Banner for this fic using her mad editing skills! THANK YOU SO MUCH!_

_LOVE_

_:} llorolalluvia_


	4. Chapter 4

"What's taking so long?" Ron Weasley pulled aside the curtain once again to peek at the quiet street beyond. He, Harry, Ginny, and the twins were playing Exploding Snap in the Library, but he kept losing because his mind wasn't on the game.

"So long for what?" Ginny asked absentmindedly as she reached for a card.

"For Hermione to get back. Weddings don't take _this_ long, do they?" the sun was setting somewhere out of view. Golden light mixed with a greenish twilight in what he could see of the sky. It cast an eerie orange-ish glow on the street below.

Ginny snorted, looking up at him. "You don't expect Snape to bring her here for the uh… honeymoon, do you?"

The idea was so preposterous that Ron whipped around to gawk at his little sister. "_Honeymoon?_ What are you on about?"

"Come on Ronikins," said Fred.

"We've been over this," agreed George.

"When a Mommy Witch and a Daddy Wizard are forced into a Ministry-run Mating Program…"

"I know what a honeymoon is! I meant… hang on. Did you say _Mating Program?_"

At this point, all of the eyes in the room were on him with looks akin to pity. Even Harry had broken out of his silent moping to stare at his best friend. Ron's stomach churned. It was Ginny who broke the silence. "Ron, didn't you read _any _of that article?" He could only shake his head. She sighed. "Does someone else want to tell him?"

There was a moment of silence while they all glanced around at each other. Ron was on the brink of shouting at them to _spit it out _when Harry finally spoke. "She has to sleep with Snape. Once a week. It's part of the Law."

The news hit him like the Hogwarts Express. "No… I…" he sputtered, trying to make sense of it all at once. "You're joking!"

The twins reaction to his distress was to smirk menacingly in a way he knew meant that they were uncomfortable with his pain. "Hey, that could have been you, mate," George said.

"More's the pity," Fred added, shaking his head.

"Shut it!" Ginny hissed, swatting George's arm.

Ron was staring off into space in horror. Hermione sleeping with _Snape_? Or… really… _Snape_ sleeping with Hermione! Snape _forcing himself _on Hermione! "But what if she doesn't want to?" he blurted out.

"Well of course she doesn't want to!" Fred agreed helpfully.

Ginny smacked him, too. "Hermione knew what she was getting into, Ron. She read the Law. And anyway, didn't you see how he was scowling? It's not like _he's_ excited about this, either."

"And anyway, think of it," said George, thoughtfully. "Maybe Snape won't be such a bastard once he's getting some action."

"_Getting some action!?_ It's _Hermione!_"

"Yeah," agreed Fred with a dreamy expression, "did you see her in that dress today?"

"And he gets to take it off of her…" George shook his head.

"Lucky sod."

"Shut it!" Ron and Ginny shouted together. Ron's mind was spinning out of control. Anger and helplessness seemed to inflate him to the bursting point but he couldn't quite explode. Suddenly unable to be in the room with the rest of them, Ron leapt to his feet and stomped to the door. "I can't take this," he snapped, "I just… I've gotta go."

Pacing the top floor of Twelve Grimmauld didn't help abate his anger. If anything, it only seemed to fuel it. It felt like his fault. When they had first read about the Marriage Law, everyone had known that he would petition for Hermione if she needed him to. Well, apparently everyone had known, anyway. His mother had to sit him down to explain that that was what he would have to do, and why. And he would have been happy to do that for her. Not that he felt…you know… _that_ way for her, but she was his friend and he would have protected her.

But no one had mentioned this part of the Law. It changed everything. For the first time since Hermione had decided to marry Snape, Ron didn't feel relieved. Oh sure, at first he was happy not to have to get married at such a young age. The idea was daunting, after all. But he never would have agreed to let her sleep with Snape. Once a week. He would have had sex with Hermione. Once a week. That could have been him. Why did that make him more jealous than marriage did? Why did that make it seem like maybe it wouldn't have been so bad? Being married to Hermione. Sex once a week. Or more, if she wanted… But no. Now she was going to be sleeping with their Potions Master. What if he hurt her? The pervert! What if he made her do it more than they had to? What if she tried to fight him off and he held her down? He was a grown wizard. A powerful, dark wizard…

"Ron, are you alright?" The boy in question whipped around to see Remus Lupin at the top of the stairs. The anger seemed to rise up in his chest, focusing on that one soft-spoken man who had failed to protect Hermione.

"How could you have let her marry Snape!?" he shouted. Lupin's eyes grew wide with shock. "You _knew_ what they had to do!"

"I tried to talk her out of it," the man protested.

"You were _happy!_"

"I admit, I wasn't… well I…"

"You were glad it wasn't Tonks! You were glad Hermione was there to take her place. You _sacrificed _her!"

"Now, Ron. It wasn't my decision…"

"_Someone_ should have _stopped _her! It's _Snape!_ He's going to hurt her and everyone knows that and everyone thinks it's okay…"

"Severus is a good man…"

"_HE'S A DEATH EATER!_" Downstairs, Mrs. Black began to shriek, but Ronald Weasley didn't care. He wanted to tear this whole house down in his rage. What a useless pile of shite it was if the Order couldn't even protect Hermione! She was the most important one! Other than Harry… And they'd just thrown her to the wolves… so to speak.

"Ron. Severus Snape is an Order member." Ron scoffed angrily. "Dumbledore trusts him."

"Dumbledore's _WRONG!_"

"You're hurting. You feel helpless. You want to place blame. But Hermione is very strong. She can take care of herself."

The anger seemed to be building up in his head, behind his eyes, threatening to burst them from their sockets. It was turning cold, leeching into his soul, pulling his heart down into his stomach, sucking his strength out. "She's the one who… the one…" He slammed a palm against the wall and leaned into it, collapsing against the old, dusty wood.

"She doesn't need you to save her, Ron," Remus was saying. The words seemed to puncture the last of his resolve, letting his emotions come pouring out as he sobbed hard into his sleeve. He sank against the wall. "She will be okay." The voice was getting closer, sinking down beside him. "Hermione is strong." Of course she was. She was the strongest person he knew. "This is for the best." Could that really be true? "There is nothing else you could have done to stop her. And she didn't expect you to."

"But I should have," he whined through the shameful tears. "I should have said something to her. I should have been there… let her know that I was there if she needed me."

"She did know that. We talked about it; her and I. She said that it would have been a lot easier for her to marry you, but that it wasn't about what was easy for her. She married Snape so that Tonks could be with me. I told her she didn't need to do that, but she was determined. You know how she can be set in her ways. Once she's decided something… there's no getting it out of her head."

Ron rubbed his eyes, pulling his face out of his arms and breathing in a shuddering breath. "You're right. I know you're right, I just… I didn't know she was going to have to… that they would have to…"

"I know."

"And we just… let her. We just pushed her right into his arms…"

"Hermione Granger is not helpless. She made this decision herself, and she would murder you if you ever let on that you thought of her like that. Like… a victim."

"But she is, though. Oh, she's strong and brave and usually it's her that's trying to help someone else, but… this time she was the one who needed helping. And we just let her go." Ron rubbed his eyes again. They were beginning to ache.

"She isn't gone forever, you know. You can still be there for her. As a friend. That's what she needs right now. It's going to be hard enough being married to Severus Snape without her friends telling her she made a bad decision."

Ron only nodded, understanding. She needed his support. Well, he could be that for her. He could do that much. Merlin knows she would have done it for him.

…*~*J*~*…

Hermione scooped the contents of her underwear drawer into the seemingly bottomless trunk and sighed. She had refused to allow the Hogwarts elves to take care of it for her. But… it had to be done. She was moving into the dungeons with her new husband. How strange. She was moving into the dungeons to cohabitate with Professor Snape. Flopping back onto the bed, she let out a groan.

Gryffindor Tower had been her refuge here at Hogwarts. Before term had even begun their very first year, this bedroom had been hers. She had always known that she could come here to escape whatever problem was plaguing her. It usually had something to do with the boys. But now… now she was moving right to the problem itself. Now, she would be stuck with it. With _him_.

Snape had barely said three words to her since their "marriage" earlier that afternoon. He'd sent her to pack up her things with vague instructions to meet him beside the Potions classroom in an hour. Well, it hadn't taken nearly an hour to dump all of her carefully laid out belongings into one big trunk. Now, she had only to wait.

Staring up at the scarlet canopy, Hermione wondered what the Potions Master's quarters would be like. She had known that the professors lived at Hogwarts, but had never wondered what sorts of spaces they inhabited. Was it like apartments? Just bedrooms? Maybe a sitting area for visiting… who? For visiting students? Surely not.

And what would they _do?_ She was bound to be stuck with him all night. Would he want to get the… the… _consumation_… out of the way? Or would he put it off to last minute and make her wait? Hermione would just as soon have it over with, even if it was only the first of many repeats. She wasn't looking forward to that aspect of their new life together. She wasn't looking forward to it at all.

And what would it even be like? Snape didn't exactly strike her as a romantic type, but she had little to go on with regards to sex. That is… she'd seen a few chick flicks from time to time with artfully obscured sex scenes showing moments of passion between lovers, but she really couldn't imagine anything like that transpiring between herself and her professor. Of course, she really didn't know. Maybe men were just so caught up in their own physiological responses that seemingly affectionate gestures just sort of happened.

Either way, soon enough, her naked body was going to be touching Snape's. How weird was that? Now, Hermione Granger was no prude. She considered modesty an emotional response. But she had no experience to draw on. Would he kiss her? Would he touch her? It all just seemed so strange.

Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine Snape turning toward her, approaching her in a dimly lit dungeon chamber, a giant four-poster bed in Slytherin green dominating the room. She would want to draw away from him, but to do so would be to show weakness, and that would never do. She would stand strong, shivering as he stepped into her personal space and brought his fine-boned hands to rest upon her waist. Hermione shuddered. She was feeling quite confident today, as she had spent the afternoon being gawked at by wizards of an age with her husband. Clearly, she wasn't too young or too scrawny for any of them. Maybe… maybe he thought she looked pretty, too?

She would place her own hands on his upper arms, but it wouldn't be quite natural, and she would end up with her hands behind his neck, pulling her even closer to his dominating frame. Those dark black eyes would bore into hers, impressed by her boldness, daring her to do even more.

Maybe she would press her breasts against his chest, watching to see if his eyes dilated. She would ask him without words if he wanted to touch her, and his hands would twitch involuntarily. 'You are no longer a girl,' he might say, letting his eyes rove across her newfound curves.

'It's about time you noticed,' she would answer. Then he would crush her hard against him and slowly lower his mouth to hers. The first kiss would be brief, awkward, but she would moan against his mouth and he would growl into hers. Suddenly overcome with desire, he would kiss her fiercely, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and pushing her backwards until she collapsed into his sheets.

Hermione bolted up in the bed, gasping. Her skin seemed to be on fire, pulsing with embarrassed warmth. Maybe she wasn't only anxious about the night ahead. Maybe she was actually looking forward to it. _Oh come on, Hermione, don't be daft. _It was only a fantasy, after all. Snape would never look at her that way in real life. He thought of her as a girl; a child. She would never be anything more than a bony chit to him. He would never want her.

Did she want him to?

She waited a solid ten minutes outside the Potions classroom before the man in question decided to make an appearance. He growled and glared and gestured for her to follow, not so much as offering a helping hand with her heavy trunk. After all, as he kept telling her, she could have had the elves do it, but she just had to do it herself.

Dragging her luggage after her professor, Hermione followed the insufferable man down the darkened corridor, past the classroom, past where Harry and Ron said the Slytherin Common Room was, and deep into the heart of the dungeon. There were fewer candles and portraits the farther they went and eventually he stopped in front of a mural of a tree that was framed by a plane stone arch. A series of nonverbal spells released what appeared to be a number of intricate wards and the façade melted away.

It would have been comforting for the melted mural to have let out a stream of warm, homey light. Unfortunately, the room beyond the arch was darker than the corridor. Snape waved his wand again as they stepped across the threshold, and a couple dozen candles lit themselves around the room. Hermione gasped. She hadn't known what to expect, but this certainly hadn't been it. His chambers were the epitome of a fictional Sorcerer's Lair. Half of the walls were covered by books; the others by shelves of jars of potions ingredients. Strange animals, liquids, powders, insect bits, organs, leaves, and stranger things than she had ever used in Potions class seemed to have been haphazardly strewn across every available surface. Counters were crowded with parchment and cutting boards. Knives had been left out. Mortars and pestals and strange metal tools littered the spaces in between. There were cauldrons stacked in corners; some standing ready on tables; two softly simmering over an open flame. There was a single wooden stool and nothing more.

He ushered her past this room and through a heavy wooden door into what appeared to be his bedroom. A dark, oak wardrobe was the most imposing piece of furniture. Around it, three parchment-strewn desks were crowded into the corners with one rickety chair between them. A fireplace was flanked by two more bookshelves and attended by one huge threadbare wingback chair. Hung on the opposite wall was an impressive clockwork structure that appeared to be slowly moving. Wheels and gears held spindles with metal balls at the ends; circles upon circles that she couldn't make sense of. It was strangely beautiful. And beneath that was his bed. It was a sad, rickety little grey thing with blankets that were probably as old as she was. Hermione swallowed. And she was going to live here.

Panic was beginning to seep into her chest, pulsing angrily and urging her to feel regret for her mistake. And it was a mistake. Anything that could have led her to live in this place must surely be categorized as such. _No. No. Get a grip, Hermione. It's only a bedroom. It's nothing to panic about._ But it was hardly a bedroom. This was a workspace. The bed itself seemed to have been squeezed in as a last minute consideration. _Oh, yes, and I might have to sleep at some point._ Merlin! There was no space for anything of hers. No space in that _bed_ for the two of _them!_ What the _hell_ was she going to do?!

Too late, she noticed her professor watching her. "Admiring your new accommodations?" he asked her in a deadly quiet tone.

She swallowed. "I…" she didn't know what to say. "Where should I put my things?" she asked, instead.

It may have been her imagination, but some of the tension seemed to leave the man at that. He led her to the wardrobe and threw it open, shifting all of his belongings to one side. They only took up half the space. Well, no one had ever accused Professor Snape of having a diverse wardrobe.

Hermione nodded in thanks. "And my books?" she wondered.

There was a long pause in which her Potions Master seemed to simmer. "I told Albus this wasn't going to work," he spat. "I don't have _room_ for all of your silly _things_. Next, I expect you'll want to know where you can put the _doll house!_"

Hermione couldn't help herself. "You think _I_ want this? I wanted to stay in Gryffindor Tower…"

"Yes, well, you _can't_ can you?"

"But the Law doesn't say anything about…"

"It's nothing to do with the _Law!_ It's Wizarding custom. Allowing you to sleep anywhere but at my side would be _shameful_."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You mean _you're_ the one who's making me live down here?"

He scoffed at that. "Don't be ridiculous. It was never a question…"

"Well, then, _you_ ought to make accommodations for _me._"

That was going too far. Snape descended upon her, curling his tall, slender form until she seemed trapped even though he hadn't touched her. "I owe you _nothing_," he hissed. "As my wife, _you_ belong to _me_."

At his words, Hermione felt the first shiver of fear. How could she have even imagined this man gently touching her? How could she have ever thought that he would be tender? "Belong?" she asked, dismayed when her voice was barely a whisper.

He sneered wickedly at that, pulling himself up to his full height. There was a twinge of bitterness in those black eyes. "Yes, Miss Granger. Belong. You _belong_ to me, now. That is what marriage is."

"But it… it doesn't mean anything," she protested.

"Oh, but it does. It means _everything_, Miss Granger. It means that you can never oppose me in a court of law."

That information hit Hermione like the dull blow of a hammer. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

Sensing her distress, Snape pulled himself nearer to her, approaching her in a twisted mockery of her fantasy from earlier. "It means," he growled, his voice darker and deeper than she'd ever heard it before, the mere vibrations sending shudders down her spine, "that I can do anything I want to you. And there's nothing you can do."

She stood strong. "But y-you won't hurt me."

He laughed at that, the cruelty of the sound piercing deep into her heart. Here she was proving faith in the man and he could think of nothing better than to rip it out from under her. "You are fortunate, Miss Granger," he told her, sweeping sparkling eyes down her shivering form. She hadn't felt so exposed by the tightness of her dress until that moment. Then his eyes locked onto hers, but he did not speak, teasing her with fear and anticipation.

"Why?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Because," he growled, his eyes narrowing wickedly as he basked in her response, "there is _nothing_ that I want to do to you."

…*~*J*~*…

_Thank you so very much __**writeratheart007, bookworm661, sa1ntmung0, Sassyluv, RhodaBush, ButI'mBatgirl, articcat621, Cause-and-Author, jensteed, Mikena, recey2010, SereniteRose, Blue night fairy, gloryandfame, stexgirl2000, mystery, ahemmeri, Lorna brownie, marzipan4, just an anon reader, Mrs. Anya Snape, frog8590, Remarkable1, jdbmcmahan2000, Amarenima Redwood, Broadwayfreak5357, meg527, Karli1252, Viteali Varishta, Her Royal Goddess, the chit, evil-sensei iruka, fifiotoole, Fantomette34, incoherentlove, Onyx Obsidian, ReDish, MisSkars, Agcadx1, CharmedArtist, doctorhodes, Hannoie, Perry Downing, and several Guests **__for Reviewing my last chapter! You guys are amazing and I love you!_

_:} llorolalluvia_


	5. Chapter 5

Footsteps in the other room made Hermione's head jerk up in the direction of the door. She knew it was silly, but it felt like an intrusion sitting in her husband-professor's chair. He had left her to tend to his brewing with the single instruction that she should unpack without disturbing his belongings. But he had yet to reenter the bedroom and she didn't want to disturb his work in the other room. So here she was, sitting in anxious anticipation, trying to read a book for class, despite the fact that classes didn't begin for another three days. She just couldn't concentrate. Her mind kept wandering around the room. First, to the books on the shelves, in stacks on the floor, and strewn across the desks. There were so many and her hands itched to search through them for herself. Next, to the strange clockwork structure that she had decided must represent the motion of the celestial bodies (which was very important in some obscure potions, after all). And then… to the bed. The grimy, rickety, too-small bed. Her Potions Master's bed. This is where he slept. This is where the Bat of the Dungeons, the Greasy Git, the Head of Slytherin House… wow, it was amazing that the Head of Slytherin House slept on such a pathetic little cot. No wonder he was always cranky.

She tried not to repeatedly imagine him bursting through the door and dragging her to said bed to throw her down upon it. After his outburst earlier, she didn't know what to expect. Would Tonks know what to do? She felt pathetic even wondering. Tonks was an Auror. She would arrest the foul git if he tried anything with her. But Hermione was no slouch with a wand, either. And she knew quite a bit about the law. True… she hadn't known that marriage basically diffused the rights of the witch involved… but that was something she'd look into later.

Well. What was the worst that could happen? She would survive, wouldn't she? He wasn't about to _kill_ her. Anything else, she could grit her teeth and bear. She was strong. She was smart. She was a survivor. Of course, they _had_ to have sex, but if he was rough, she could give him what for.

…*~*J*~*…

Severus had already finished the potions for the Hospital Wing and was scrambling anxiously for something to occupy his mind. Ideally, he could have spent the evening working on one of his many unfinished projects (mostly potions he was trying to invent), but he was too distracted to be inspired. There was a bushy-haired know-it-all in his bedroom, and he didn't know what to do about it. Grumbling impatiently, he snatched up his copy of the new Marriage Law and plopped himself down on the stool. There had to be some sort of loophole hidden somewhere, and he was determined to find it. But where? How? He didn't want to face the girl in the other room without a good strong defense. How could he?

Hermione Granger had always been a nuisance. On one hand, she reminded him far too much of Lily. On the other, she was best friends with Potter. Again with the reminding him of Lily. Oh, she'd never been the shining, beautiful star that Lily was. She'd never drawn the stranger's eye and turned grown men into puddles of mush with a smile. But she was bright and strong and compassionate. She loved her studies and she excelled in them-annoyingly well. He truly had despised her in the beginning. Still did. She had the shiny new paint of an unjaded innocent. She had a bright future that she hadn't yet thrown away. In another Universe, he might have had everything it would have taken to be her, but he didn't. He had lost it all to foolish impulse and was now forced to pay the price. Had she just thrown away her future, too? Severus wasn't sure if he wanted to think she had or not.

But she wasn't that gangly, big-haired brat anymore. Somehow, she had managed to acquire the body of a woman. The body of a woman capable of drawing the attention of every… bleeding… wizard at the Ministry earlier that day. Even his most formidable glares couldn't deter the wretched droolers. He resented her for that. What had she done to deserve beauty on top of everything else? Why did she deserve that when he didn't? Of course, that was illogical. He understood that. She hadn't _done_ anything to merit such. But it didn't matter. She was beautiful and he was ugly and she would resent him for that simple fact. She would hate him for touching her. She would never be his to touch.

Not that he wanted to. She was practically a child. She knew nothing of the ways of the world. She still thought she was mature, and in some ways she was, if he were honest with himself. But her experience didn't begin to compare with his. Her understanding of the nature of the world was inherently naïve. She was coming from a perspective with a completely different outlook. They would never see the same side of anything. They were doomed from the start!

And what would she think of him?

Severus drew a hand down his face, flipping the pages of the law for some escape. He kept himself so locked away, so hidden from any prying eyes. How could he open himself up to such ridicule? How could he possibly have sex with her? She would laugh at him! Or pity him. Somehow, she had saddled herself with the Bat of the Dungeons. What intrigue! _Wonder what the Greasy Git wears to bed. Wonder what he looks like when he comes._ He could just hear her laughing about him to her friends. He was pale. He was skinny. He was not an attractive man. And she was the virgin sacrifice on the altar of his cause. Damn that Albus Dumbledore! Damn the Dark Lord! Damn the Minister of Magic for making all of this happen to him! Damn all of them for turning him on his head again so the world could see up his robe.

He slammed a fist on the table and stood to pace again. There had to be some way around this law.

…*~*J*~*…

Hermione was yawning and eyeing the little bed, weighing the pros and cons of falling asleep before Professor Snape returned. Could he really blame her? It was nearly two in the morning and he hadn't come out of his lab (if that was what that was). Consummated or not, Hermione needed to get some sleep.

There were footsteps again. She had practically learned to ignore the footsteps by now. But this time the door was wrenched open and her husband appeared. It made her heart stop. Her legs were draped over the arm of his chair and she had changed into pajamas hours ago. He glared down at her, still in his robes, hair greasy, bags darkening beneath his eyes. He was very much her Potions Professor, and he was getting ready for bed.

The chit was wearing some sort of thin trousers and a Muggle tee-shirt that was nearly transparently white. For all that it appeared to be virginal, he could see the pointed tips of her breasts. She quickly swung her legs down from the arm of his chair and his eyes caught a sliver of midriff before the shirt slid down again. His cock twitched. "Making yourself at home?" he growled, releasing his anger onto her. He was furious with himself for even considering how soft she looked.

The girl only sputtered. She seemed torn between apologizing and arguing with him. He pushed past her and made his way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind himself with a satisfying thump. Resting his hands on the countertop, he sighed heavily and began to run the sink.

What on earth to wear to bed? The girl was wearing some sort of cotton that looked designed to feel as absolutely delicious as possible, but he refused to think about that. Would she feel good held against his body? Objectively, yes. But she was his student. She was 18 years old. She was friends with bloody _Potter_. Ah yes, if anything could cool down an inflating erection, it was Potter. _Why_ was he thinking about these things? _Why_ was he noticing now what he had never deigned to notice before? Was it just the proximity? The fact that he would have to have sex with her? His cock jumped in answer to the question. Severus groaned. _Bloody hell._ He was actually looking forward to it.

Sweeping out of the bathroom, Severus threw open his wardrobe. Colors of every hue and shade assaulted his eyes. _Merlin's balls._ She had thoroughly taken over his armoire. Pushing her belongings to the side, he searched his options. Usually, he wore nothing to bed. Why should he? It was much more efficient to simply remove his clothes or sleep in them. And they were dreadfully uncomfortable. He considered the old nightshirt at the very back. He hadn't worn that in eons, but it wouldn't do either. More than anything else, it was much too readily suited for mockery. With no other option, he ripped out a pair of old trousers and a shirt and stalked back into the bathroom.

Hermione was amazed by her professor's ability to stay angry for an indefinite period of time. He'd been in the other room for hours, but he was still fuming like a cauldron. She traced the edges of the book on her lap, wondering what he was doing and how she could possibly calm him down.

Severus made a few adjustments to his trousers so that they were more comfortable before considering the shirt. To wear it or not to wear it? It really was overkill, even in the winter in the dungeons. Fighting poor blood circulation in the coldest part of the castle, Severus had long ago charmed the blankets of his bed to keep him warm. The extra layer of a linen shirt would probably leave him hot and uncomfortable.

On the other hand, his bare chest was hardly something to write home about. He had a bit of muscle tone in his arms, but not much. The rest of him could best be described as wiry. And pale. With thin, black hairs that weren't thick enough to be what women seemed to consider sexy. Nothing about him was sexy. Or impressive. But why the hell should he care what she thought? She was just a little slip of a girl who knew nothing of the world. She was just a bookworm and a loudmouth and an annoying little nuisance. Who was she to make him cover himself up and hide away? Who was she to make _him_ feel insecure? He was a grown wizard, damn it. He would wear what he wanted to bed.

Hermione jumped when her professor finally emerged from the bathroom. He had exchanged the billowing robes for black trousers and a white shirt buttoned nearly up to his neck. He looked peeved and uncomfortable. Stalking past her, he stared down at the bed. She was relieved when he withdrew his wand to enlarge the sad, pathetic thing. Even when he was done, it still wasn't quite luxuriously large, and it made the room feel even more cramped than before. Hermione suppressed a sigh. At least for a little while, it would just have to do.

"Well," her Potions Master grumbled, "if you ever plan to get some sleep tonight, I would rather you took the side against the wall." She blinked up at him. "Merlin knows how late you stay in bed," he continued, "and I loathe the thought of climbing over you."

More than feeling offended, Hermione was confused. Why did it matter which side she was on right now? Wouldn't he more or less be on top of her? At that thought, a jumble of nerves hit her like a punch to the stomach. Concentrating on breathing, she decided not to question the man. Perhaps it would be better if she just followed along.

He watched the chit climb onto his bed and suppressed another surge of unexpected arousal. He had noticed in her wedding dress, and he was noticing again, that Hermione Granger had the most perfectly round, pert little arse. She probably expected him to consummate the marriage tonight. Right now. The thought nearly made him groan aloud. As the law was written, technically they had a week to get it done, but she didn't know that yet. He could climb on top of her right now, if he wanted to and… _No no no! Stop it, you fool. Stop thinking these things!_ _She's your student. Stu-dent. 18. Potter's friend._ Ah yes, that did it.

Hermione situated herself on her side of the bed, right up against the dungeon wall. When she glanced back at her professor, he was glaring down at her. Had she done something wrong? Her stomach twisted nervously. Maybe he was just really dreading what he was about to have to do. But Snape only slipped under the covers on his side of the bed and turned away from her, waving his empty hand to extinguish the candles lit all around the room. The fire hummed and spit into the silence, warming the freezing dungeon room. Hermione was stiff as a board, lying on her back, unsure what to do. _I guess he's not going to do anything_, she thought. But, of course, she had to ask.

"Professor?" she whispered.

"_What_, Granger?"

"Don't we… I thought we had to…"

"No." It was his only answer.

She wanted to leave it at that. She really did. Only, so many questions were flying through her mind, and he was the only one who could answer them. And he was right there. "So…" she began again, "but we do have to eventually…"

Professor Snape sighed into the silence. She could tell he was put out, but she couldn't help herself. "The Law only specifies 'once a week,'" he said.

"Oh." She was feeling pretty foolish, now, staring up at his clockwork Solar System like a baby in a crib. She was literally trapped against the dungeon wall by the Potions Master. How on earth was a Gryffindor to sleep? The phrase 'between a rock and a hard place' sprang to mind. "So…" she began again, another question on the tip of her tongue.

"Go to sleep, Granger," her professor growled.

He wished the girl would learn to hold her tongue. How the hell was he supposed to get to sleep? It almost made him eager for the nightmares that he knew were soon to come. The thought made him freeze. How would Granger react if he woke up screaming with her in the bed? What if he thrashed in his sleep? _Bloody hell._ He hadn't even considered the ramifications of having another person in his bed. Clearly, there was only one thing he could do. Withdrawing one hand from under the coverlet, Severus Summoned a bottle of Dreamless Sleep and uncorked it. _Here's to my marriage bed,_ he thought dryly, raising the potion like a toast to his own future before downing the damn thing.

Hermione was afraid to look at her professor; afraid that he would sense the subtle gesture and know that she was staring. And her breathing. Her breathing was too loud in the quiet bedroom. Was he bothered by it? Would he tell her to stop? The thought nearly made her snort aloud, but luckily she stopped herself. Then the thought of what he would say to her laughing caused another chuckle to rise up in her throat. Really, the whole situation was hilarious. She was practically having a sleepover with the Head of Slytherin House! At that, a snort really _did _escape her. She clapped her hands over her mouth in embarrassment. It was as if the first domino had been struck. Delirious laughter seemed to bubble up inside her. In a panic, she tried to smother it with her palms. _Fantastic. _What better way to prove her immaturity than by giggling in the Potions Master's bed? Somehow, she doubted anyone had ever done that before. She thought of Harry, Ron, and Ginny. They were probably sitting on their hands back at Grimmauld, silently contemplating the horror she was going through. And here she was, crowded into their professor's bed like a neglected teddy bear. The images had her shaking with silent laughter as she pressed her palms against her mouth. Tears sprang to her eyes inexplicably as relief and hilarity fell over her in waves.

Without warning, Snape swung around, propping himself up on one arm and leaning over her in anger. "_WHAT?" _he snapped. At that, she burst out laughing, choking back gales as she tried to muffle them with her hands. She could only shake her head. "Do you want to sleep on the floor, Granger?" he hissed. It only served to make her laughter double. The Head of Slytherin House didn't seem to know what to do.

Severus could feel his face growing warm. It was one thing to acknowledge a humorous situation, and another thing entirely to _be_ that situation. He wanted to hex the impertinent girl or hurt her or lash out in some way that might teach her never to make him feel like this again. But before he had a chance to say something cruel (which was really his only option, as physical punishment was completely out of the question), her laughter subsided enough for her to choke out a few words.

"I'm s-sorry." Hermione had to fight to catch her breath. "It's not that funny, I just…" she felt foolish and relieved at the same time. "Can you imagine… if someone had told us this time last week that we would be here right now?"

"Yes, I believe I _can_ imagine it, as someone _did_ tell me this would happen, and I didn't want to believe it." The Dreamless Sleep was beginning to hit him and Severus fought a wave of panic. Had he known that she was going to do this… well, he wouldn't have downed that bottle.

"I'm sorry," Hermione told the angry man. Her laughter was derailed by the seriousness of his response. Now, she simply felt foolish, staring up at the man who was her husband. _He must think me a complete twit._ It was hardly the best way to begin their relationship. _Relationship_. How strange.

"Yes, well, you shouldn't…" her professor yawned, swaying slightly as his eyelids fought to close. "You shouldn't get so… carried away. It's…" Weariness had taken the place of anger in his voice, and he slipped down to rest on his elbow beside her. "It's… bad form." And suddenly, inexplicably, his arm buckled beneath him, his eyes slid closed, his face grew slack, and he was fast asleep against the pillow. For a long moment, Hermione gawked, not comprehending. The realization hit her like a punch to the stomach. There was a bottle on the table by the bed. Had he taken something? Apparently. And now he was out; absent. And yet… _present_. The always alert spy, sly enough to walk the line between Voldemort and Dumbledore, had cast his defenses aside. She could see him.

It was strange. Hermione had never had the opportunity to study Professor Snape's features. One couldn't look at the paranoid wizard without meeting those inky black eyes. That was a defense of his. As long as he was looking at you, you couldn't see anything but his eyes.

But the moment he closed them, falling down onto the pillow, his lips parting to breath heavily the cold winter air, the rest of his face appeared. The light of the fire deepened the circles beneath his eyes and disappeared in the harsh lines across his forehead and around his mouth. For the first time, Hermione wondered how old her professor was. Her husband. His long black hair spread out beneath him and she was prickled by the question of _why_ he kept it so long? Was it just another veil to hide behind?

Suddenly at ease, Hermione settled onto her side to watch her husband's countenance as she drifted off to sleep. Her last thought echoed into dreams. Who was this silly man who wore a fully-buttoned linen shirt to bed? And would he ever let her know?

…*~*J*~*…

_Thank you so much for continuing to follow my story! I'm sorry for the delay with this chapter, but I was at __**Misti-Con**__! (which I recommend all of you do in 2017, because it was amazing!) _

_A special thank you to __**EveryoneNeedsAnAlpha, sjoyhp, Mel, Isode, snap manic, vaila, Her Royal Goddess, SereniteRose, Taedae, LadyinRed, Blue night fairy, RedPhoenix13, Mikena, just an anon reader, marzipan4, Sassyluv, stexgirl2000, Hannoie, sickleflame, BlueWater5, Hada, amr, giada, writeratheart007, flying berry, Gemini Sister, Broadwayfreak5357, articcat621, SeraphinaAngel, Perry Downing, incoherentlove, viola1701e, Lorna brownie, bookworm661, Karli1252, Fantomette34, RhodaBush, Amarenima Redwood, Viteali Varishta, and several Guests **__for __**Reviewing**__ my last chapter. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it! I love you guys!_

_:} llorolalluvia_


	6. Chapter 6

She dreamt that she was camping with her parents in the Forest of the Dean. She'd gone off on her own and stumbled across a stranger's campsite. The fire was crackling, but no one was there. Suddenly weary, she stretched out beside the fire. The ground beside it had been warmed and the hot earth scorched her soft skin. She was too close. Too close to the fire. It was burning her arm and the side of her leg. She opened her eyes.

All was dark, but she could hear the heavy breathing of the man beside her. She flinched. Their arms and calves were pressed hard against each other. The realization made her skin burn with embarrassment. Slowly, cautiously, she tried to pull away. He didn't so much as groan. Searching the sheets, Hermione found her wand and cast a Tempus Charm. _Eight o'clock?! _How was it so dark if it was… oh. There were no windows in the Potion Master's quarters. How dreadfully depressing. Hermione lit the tip of her wand and slowly pulled herself into a sitting position. Snape had taken a sleeping potion of some sort, she remembered. Maybe she wouldn't wake him if she tried to get out of bed.

Casting the soft glow of Lumos over her husband's sleeping form, Hermione was struck again by how enormous he seemed to be. His limbs looked longer without his robes to envelop them. And though his frame was far from wide, his chest and shoulders were broader than she had thought they'd be. Perhaps it was mere proportion. He was a large man and his parts were large when viewed up close. She blushed at the thought, her eyes snapping to the juncture between his legs. The blankets had been pulled back when she sat up, and the edge just barely covered the top of his trousers. Even through the thick material, she could see a prominent bulge. Heat flooded her face. She had read about the phenomenon of morning arousal in men, but to witness it for herself… _Heavens_, she was practically staring at her professor's… well his… the _bulge_ in his trousers. Shaking her head, she ripped her eyes away.

For a long moment, Hermione Granger just sat there. What was she to do? He had trapped her against the wall. Between a rock and a hard place. She almost giggled at the thought. And then she groaned, remembering her giggle fit the night before and realizing how _stupid_ she must have seemed to him. With sudden force, she threw off the covers, baring a bit more of _him_ in the process. She froze. He would be furious with her if he woke right now and saw what she had seen. And yet… she couldn't keep her curious eyes from settling on the proud outline of her husband's… of his… of Snape's penis. _Oh gods, how odd. _

Hermione had never considered the fact that Professor Snape had a penis. He was just her professor; a man who played a role in her life; a very fully grown adult wizard who practically owned her at the moment. Hermione gasped. She had been holding her breath, her heart pounding wildly as if the man before her were some sort of sleeping dragon. _Sleeping Serpent, more like._ Shaking her head, she crawled to the foot of the bed rather than risk the humiliation that would come with waking her husband by climbing over his sleeping form.

Having escaped her marriage bed, Hermione stood in the middle of the floor and wondered what she ought to do. She had waited hours the night before for permission to go to sleep (essentially), so she didn't feel the need to bother asking if she could please take a shower. _Pathetic._ Her mind made up, she padded over to the wardrobe and searched the contents for something to wear. Selecting a pair of comfortable jeans and a soft, white jumper, she grabbed her bag of toiletries and slipped into the bathroom.

For a man with so few items dedicated to personal hygiene, Professor Snape sure did have a messy bathroom. Nothing seemed to be in order. Empty toothpaste tubes hid behind a full one without a cap. Multicolored potion bottles littered the counter around the sink. The shower was full of replicas of the same old brand of shampoo (presumably empty ones he hadn't bothered tossing in the bin). And there was a bathtub, but it was dusty with cobwebs.

Tempted by the prospect of a bath as she was, Hermione didn't feel quite comfortable enough in her professor's bathroom just yet. Perhaps she'd hold off for the nonce. But now was as good a time as any to set her own belongings out around the room. She certainly wasn't going to keep them in a bath bag like she was on perpetual holiday. _Perpetual_. The word made her shiver with dread. Somehow, she still believed this was all just temporary.

Thank Merlin she had an over-the-showerhead rack for her various soaps and shampoos, or she never would have fit them in among the empty bottles cramped into the corners of the shower stall. Next to the green-grey, white, and black tiles of the bathroom, her pink and red and yellow bottles seemed to glow. It made her chuckle a little. Everything else in the bathroom was monochromatic, but her orderly little rack of bottles made the eye pop right to them. She hoped he wouldn't mind. And bugger him if he did! _Oh, Hermione, that's a terrible thing to think. _She shook her head. If they were going to get along, she couldn't start off on the defensive.

Fiddling with the knobs, she got the shower working and stripped out of her clothes. The water was hot and hard against her skin, and Hermione sighed. She could get used to this. She was lathering her hair with shampoo when she noticed a long black hair clinging to the shower wall. Lavender Brown always left hair in the shower, but it was somehow different knowing that this hair was Snape's. She had a sudden vision of him standing naked beneath the same torrent of hot water and her stomach jumped up into her throat. It suddenly seemed so forbidden that she was naked in her professor's bathroom, her hair mingling with his in the drain.

Once she had noticed them, she couldn't help but see them. Long black hairs stuck here and there and wrapped around the old shampoo bottles at her feet. And then there were smaller hairs lower down, little curling coarse black hairs that couldn't be anything other than… _Snape's pubic hair!_ The thought should have grossed her out, but she found her mind wandering back to the bulge in the front of his trousers. Proof that he was a man. She had known that. She had never doubted that he was. But somehow seeing the evidence made her comprehend the fact more fully. He was a grown, male wizard. And he was going to sleep with her soon.

Reaching past the shower curtain, Hermione snatched up her wand. She banished the hairs and Scourgified the walls and floor for good measure. While she was at it, those empty bottles had to go. There was only one that had anything in it, anyway. Even his single bar of plain white soap was given a good rinse with her wand, washing away the single curly hair that had somehow wrapped around it. Ever since the first summer she spent with the Weasleys at Twelve Grimmauld, Hermione had known that boys were messy and unhygienic and gross. But she had never _imagined_ that grown _men_ could be the same. Well, in retrospect it shouldn't have been so surprising. Everyone knew the Greasy Git with his crooked teeth and oily skin didn't know how to bathe. Was it any shock, then, that his shower was such a mess?

When Hermione stepped out of the shower, she gave the same treatment to the rest of Professor Snape's bathroom. Those empty toothpaste tubes were completely unnecessary and the cobwebs could be cleared away with one sweep of her wand. _Honestly_. Was it really so hard? She dried off her hair and dressed in clean clothes and stepped out into the professor's bedroom. And he was still asleep. _Incredible._

For a minute, she just stood there, debating her options. It would be nice to get some breakfast and fresh air, but she didn't know the wards to his quarters yet, so she'd be locked out until she found him. On the other hand, there wasn't much to do here but wait until he woke up.

Of course… there were the books…

Leaving the bathroom light on, Hermione meandered idly over to the bookshelves, glancing casually at the titles while sending furtive glances back at her sleeping husband. Her heart pattering, she lifted a hand to the row of books before her, trailing the tip of one finger across their leather spines. Snape was dead asleep (another glance confirmed), so she shouldn't be so nervous.

There was no rhyme or reason to the order of the books. They weren't in order of category or alphabet and some seemed to have been stuffed in wherever it looked like they would fit. Sections of the shelf were turned sideways in a stack, as if he hadn't bothered righting them when he was done. Even a couple of obvious collections were separated by unrelated tomes or shuffled out of order. It made Hermione cringe against the instinct to organize.

There was quite a variety. Mixed in with the obvious Potions and Dark Arts textbooks were texts about Arithmancy, Herbology, Divination (_shocking!_), Magical History, Muggle History, Muggle Chemistry, Astrophysics, and even, much to her surprise, a few Muggle Science Fiction novels tucked into the corners of the bottom shelf. Sending another guilty glance over her shoulder, Hermione withdrew what looked like a collection of experimental potions papers that looked promising. She flipped it open and was skimming the Table of Contents when a load groan made her jump and nearly drop the damn thing.

Snape was stretching his limbs and groaning wearily in a way that made her face grow warm. What would he say when he saw her standing there watching him? What would he do when he saw his book in her hand? But he only hooked a hand beneath the hem of his linen shirt and dragged it up to scratch his belly. Hermione froze, her heart hammering as she stared transfixed at his pale, hairy flesh. The man was ridiculously thin, but his stomach looked soft and was covered with long, black hairs. They circled his navel and disappeared in tapering lines up under his shirt and down beneath the band of his trousers. Which were still tented.

For one long minute, Hermione stood there, not breathing, watching in fear that he would slip those long, pale fingers down that slope of wiry hair and plunge them into his trousers to fondle himself. When he, instead, turned onto his side and let out a deep breath before growing still once more, she almost sighed with relief. Then, assuring herself that he was indeed asleep, she stuffed the manual under her arm and left his chambers without a second thought.

…*~*J*~*…

When Severus could hold the waking world at bay no longer, he was surprised to see his bathroom light on. Had he forgotten to turn it off? No. No, it wasn't him, his tired mind remembered. _Granger_ was there now. She must have done it.

Groaning, he pulled himself up into a sitting position and buried his face in his hands. His head ached something awful. He would need to take a potion for that. It took all of Severus's strength and determination to pull himself up out of bed and drag himself over to the bathroom. And when he did, he was met with quite a surprise. It was clean. She had _cleaned_ it. The empty bottles and tubes were gone and the surfaces shone like they hadn't since he could remember. Heat rose in his face and he snarled. _How dare she!_ The nerve of that little Gryffindor brat! What made her think she could touch his belongings? Clean them and banish them at her will? What if he had needed those bottles for something? Well? Of course… he didn't… but that wasn't the point! Growling angrily to himself, Severus stripped out of his clothes and ran the shower.

_What the hell are all of these?! _The chit had put up a rack of her belongings-and a rack was necessary. _Just look at them all! _How on Earth could one little witch need so many hair-care products? And the soaps! 'Bath gel,' 'body scrub,' 'clear skin,' and even something called '_warming_ body wash!' _Hmmm_, of course, that last one sounded rather intriguing. He lifted the bottle out of its carefully designated slot to read the label. _It's of Muggle make?_ _Remarkable. _Of course, nearly all of the ingredients were toxic, but that was no surprise. They weren't strong enough to cause any _real_ damage, anyway. Maybe if he just tried a little dab…

_Oh wow. _The stuff really did warm against his skin. _Incredible. _The scent was familiar; a sort of warm honey spice that he had smelled somewhere before. _On her,_ his mind provided. He had smelled it on Granger. Of course. His lip curled up in distaste and he stuffed the item back into its place on the rack, turning instead to his own bottle of shampoo and beginning to lather his hair.

As much as taking a shower usually seemed like a necessary nuisance, there were times when the hot water felt just right against his skin. The burn of it seemed to melt the pain out of his shoulders. Of course, that might just be the potion he had taken. He reached for his bar of plain white soap and began to systematically scrub his dripping body. It was then that he saw one long, curly hair clinging to the wall of the shower. The image hit him hard and unexpectedly. Hermione Granger standing naked beneath the same hot torrent, dripping wet and sudsed up with a dozen different soaps. Even as his mind remarked on the strangeness of that realization, his cock rose in answer to the image it evoked: her pale, milky skin flushed with heat, pert breasts dripping with water, bathing her extremities with those delicate hands. Furious, Severus slammed the tap to cold, dousing himself with ice water before jerking the curtain aside and stepping out.

Having nothing else to do, Severus spent the day brewing in his lab. As per usual, he didn't even notice that he had neglected to eat until the evening rolled around and he began to feel light-headed. A glance at the clock confirmed that it was time to head to dinner in the Great Hall. His wife had not returned, but what concern was that to him? The more time she spent away from his quarters, the better his life would be.

Sweeping into the Great Hall, Severus immediately noticed the girl sitting at her house table, reading a book. The other Gryffindors were scattered across the length of the table, as was the case with the majority of the houses. In fact, only the Hufflepuffs had all come together-older students with the younger-to sit in the middle of their table.

As he began the long trek down the center of the Hall, Severus began to notice the whispers and stares of his students. It didn't take a practiced spy to deduce that they had heard about Miss Granger and himself. To his disgust, he felt his face growing warm under the scrutiny. It made him jumpy and self-conscious. For the first time, he wondered if it was really appropriate for his wife to be sitting somewhere besides at his side. It showed a sort of independence that might undermine his authority over her. But if he was going to change that, it would have to be now. The place where she sat was fast approaching and she hadn't even looked up to acknowledge him. So transfixed was she by the book in front of her-a book that looked familiar-a book that was _definitely his!_

"Miss Granger," he growled in his most acidic voice. She nearly jumped out of her seat, whipping her head around to meet his eyes, her rosy lips popping open in surprise. "I see you have welcomed yourself to my bookshelf." Oh, yes, that embarrassed blush was a satisfying hue. "We will discuss that later. For now you will follow me." When the girl only stared at him blankly, Severus sighed in exasperation. "Your place is by my side. You sit at the Head Table now."

"But…"

"I have no patience for your questions today, Miss Granger. Come."

The girl's eyebrows came together at that in a deep frown. She was actually glaring at him. The image made him smirk in satisfaction. But regardless of her hesitance to do so, Granger started packing up her bag and stood to follow him, reaching at last minute for her half-eaten plate.

"Leave that," he told her. "You will have a new one."

"But that's wasteful," she argued.

"It hardly matters. _Leave it_."

"My parents always taught me not to waste…"

"You needn't listen to your _parents_ anymore. Now… you listen to me."

"_Excuse_ me?"

"I am your husband now. A good wife must learn to _obey."_

The girl's jaw dropped in angry shock. She stood there for a long moment, seeming to consider as she glared into his eyes. Then, shockingly, she sat back down and turned away from him. Severus felt his face grow warm. The eyes of his students were upon him and they were beginning to notice that something was wrong. His hand came down on the table a little harder than he had intended and he spoke softly into her ear. "_Do not_ undermine my authority again! Is that clear? You will cease with this infantile display. Rebellion _is not _tolerated. You put me in this position, so it's time you accepted that I am your husband now."

"Yes," she hissed back, "and _I_ am your _wife._"

"Then you ought to start _acting_ like it."

"What? By continuing to obey you like a schoolgirl? I am your equal now."

"_Equal?!"_ Had the girl gone insane?

"Yes."

Severus was momentarily taken aback. "Not in the Wizarding World, you aren't. You are my property. You _obey_ _me_."

"Well, Professor, I'm afraid that's just not the kind of wife I want to be." Her eyes bored into him and Severus could feel that they had reached a stalemate.

"Come to the Head Table with me now, and we will discuss the rest of this later."

"I'm fine where I am, thanks."

It took all of Severus's self-control to keep from shouting at the arrogant brat. He held his breath for several seconds and released it in one impatient sigh. When he spoke again, his voice was cold and low and dangerously civil. "Miss Granger, if you will accompany me to the Staff Table, it will go easier for you in the long run."

"Well, sir, easy has never really been my way."

By now the entire Hall was watching them, and Severus was seconds away from smacking his new bride. He simply _couldn't_ approach the Staff Table without her. And yet, as the girl lifted her fork and opened his book and began eating her potatoes as if he weren't there, Severus knew that there was nothing else he could do. Furious, he snatched the book away from her and stalked to his place at the top of the Hall.

Hermione began to feel pretty foolish as she sat there eating her cold potatoes with nothing to read. The eyes of her professors and classmates were upon her. In hindsight, perhaps that hadn't been the appropriate time to stand up to the backwards wizard. She hoped her other professors wouldn't think any less of her. Maybe she should have gone with him, anyway. That would have been a much more diplomatic way to handle things. After all, they needn't air their dirty laundry for the world to see.

Well, it was too late. And she wasn't sorry. Her professor needed to understand that she wasn't just his chattel and she wasn't about to follow orders. Still, it wouldn't be an easy evening with the dark, resentful man. She would have to follow him back to their room, and she had no delusions about what waited for her there. There was no doubt in her mind. It was going to be bad.

…*~*J*~*…

_Thank you guys so much! Special thanks to __**giada, Blue night fairy, bluebook1496, RhodaBush, SeraphinaAngel, Gemini Sister, Lost-puppyEYES, Aithne, Mikena, SereniteRose, snapemanic, Sassyluv, Lunajen323, gloryandfame, stexgirl2000, bookworm661, BlueBeast73, Lyra Lupin, Broadwayfreak5357, incoherentlove, Amarenima Redwood, meg527, MJJnMK, Pluto, jdbmcmahan2000, articcat621, vaila, BlueWater5, irononmaiden, Perry Downing, Her Royal Goddess, Hannoie, Fantomette34, and several Guests **__for Reviewing my last chapter! It's a real treat to hear what you guys think about my story! I especially like that so many of you have interesting comments and questions about the plot and characters so far. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me!_

_LOVE_

_:} llorolalluvia_


	7. Chapter 7

Severus glared down at his plate, spearing bites of roast beef as if they were his wife. He resented her for standing up to him, but more than that he resented the fact that he would have to face her again tonight.

It was no easy thing, having a girl in his rooms. Severus Snape had always been a very private man. And this was his student. _And she cleaned my bathroom._ The very thought filled him with shame. How was she ever going to respect him now that she'd cleaned his shower for him? But that was ridiculous, of course. If anything, she ought to respect him more.

What had he looked like to her when she woke that morning? The thought made his shoulders tense with humiliation. Maybe he shouldn't take Dreamless Sleep again tonight.

The truth was, Severus had never lived with anyone before; not since his parents, back before he'd joined the ranks of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And he'd certainly never slept with another person in his bed. The very thought made him cringe in disgust. If it hadn't been for that potion, he did not doubt that he would not have slept all night. It was… _strange._ Two people stretching out beside one another for the sole purpose of getting some rest. Was there some way that he could avoid it?

Noticing that the girl had pushed her plate aside and sat sitting there with nothing else to do, Severus smirked maliciously. He leaned back in his chair and slowed his pace. There was no hurry, after all. Let her wait.

Hermione half wanted to leave the Hall and find some better way to occupy her time. But how on earth was she to get back in their rooms if she didn't follow her professor? He hadn't taught her the wards yet, so she was helpless without him. Briefly, she considered the possibility of spending the night in the Room of Requirement. It would certainly be more comfortable than their dingy dungeon chamber. But Snape would probably find some way to punish her for it if she did. And so she sat there, waiting for what felt like forever for her grouchy husband to sweep from the hall.

And sweep he did. Right past her. She was so taken off guard that she practically tripped over the long bench as she reached for her half-open bag and hurried after him.

Snape didn't stop until they reached the entrance to the rooms they now shared with each other. Oh, he knew she was there, panting in an effort to catch up. He just didn't care.

"You need to… teach me… the wards," she panted, leaning over with her hands on her knees when they finally entered his rooms. He spun around to face her, making her lose her breath all over again.

"Don't tell me what I _need_ to do, Miss Granger. _You_ need to learn your place!"

Hermione scoffed, disbelievingly. "And where is that?"

He didn't answer right away, apparently not knowing exactly what to say. "You are my _wife_ now, Granger. You are to do as I say. I will not be made a fool…"

"Ridiculous! If the Minister of Magic wants Muggleborns to marry into the general population, he'll just have to accept that we come with a few cultural differences." Snape sputtered, but didn't know what to say. "For one, in the _modern_ Muggle world, men and women are seen as _equal_ and wives do not _submit_ to their husbands."

"Well this… this isn't…"

"Really, I don't know why on Earth you expected _me_ to be submissive."

"Hardly," Snape scoffed.

"Then you can _hardly_ be surprised…"

"Miss Granger, you openly _defied_ me in front of _everyone_ tonight."

Now it was Hermione's turn to scoff. "Most of the school isn't even back from holiday."

"Be that as it may, you undermined my authority…"

"But that's just what I've been trying to explain, Professor. In a Muggle marriage, the husband doesn't _have_ that authority."

Snape glared down at her, his face growing red with restraint and anger, and Hermione almost felt the need to take a step backwards. It was hard to reconcile this man with his robes and piercing eyes with the one stretching lazily, still in bed at midmorning. The angry professor act was almost enough to make her believe he didn't have pubic hair. _Gods, Hermione, will you _stop_ with the bloody hair? _For Merlin's sake_. _She bit her lip.

"Granger," Snape began at last in his deadliest tone, "I have enough concerns at present without you making my life more difficult. At least Nymphadora would have understood the necessity of not fighting with one's husband in public."

Hermione flushed a hot red and glared back at him, but the fight had gone from her with his words. He was right. "I'm _sorry_, alright? I shouldn't have done that with everyone watching, but you shouldn't have put me in that position!"

"Excuse me?"

"I tell you what, Professor, I'll make you a deal. I won't defy you in public if you don't order me around."

For a long moment, Snape glared down at her, searching his mind for some way around what she'd said. "Fine," he spat at last. "I will attempt to withhold my demands, but in return you must obey what I do ask of you without question. I will not waste time explaining my every motive to you, so you will just have to trust me."

"Alright," Hermione agreed readily, smiling slyly up at her husband. "In that case, you must be willing to trust _me_ when I give _you_ a command."

"_WHAT?_"

"It's only fair, Professor. I may have just as good a reason to ask something of you."

"Fine. I will… endeavor… to adhere to any wishes you make known to me in public, _if_ I believe they have sound reasoning behind them."

Hermione nodded shrewdly. "Yes, and _I_ will listen to you, _if_ what you ask isn't completely ridiculous."

"No. You will listen to _me_ without question…"

"Then you must listen to _me_ without question."

Snape was sputtering again, clenching his fists at his side. "That's not how it goes…"

"But it is what I am proposing. I'm not your student anymore, sir. I'm your wife. Like it or not."

With no other argument to offer the girl, Severus dismissed her, remaining in his laboratory while she strutted obnoxiously into his bedroom. He had shown her the wards, so she would not feel the need to follow him around anymore. Unfortunately, there wasn't much brewing to accomplish this evening, as he had done so much during the day. But Severus was desperate for some excuse not to spend time with her. And so, having nothing else to do, he sat on his stool and poured over the contents of the Law, searching desperately for some way around it.

When, at last, he decided to brave the bedroom, the girl was already asleep. Severus felt immediately uncomfortable. She was at home in his rooms, now, sleeping without being given leave to do so. Not that she needed his permission. And yet, for her to presume… but that wasn't fair. This was her bed too, now. He couldn't control her. Really, he didn't want to.

Severus readied himself for bed, debating the linen shirt again before grumpily pulling it on. No need to shock the girl. Not yet anyway. He hesitated by the side of the bed, holding his breath. She was fast asleep, stretched out on her back, her lips parted and her outrageous hair spilling all over the pillow. Slowly, he reached for the edge of the blankets, pulling them back so that he could slip beneath them. And her knee was sticking right into his half of the bed. He froze. Should he push her? Nudge her? _Wake_ her? Oh, he really didn't want to do that.

Steadily, Severus slid into the bed, gently pushing her knee with his own (it felt too intimate to use his hands) until it was safe on her side of the bed. He was so preoccupied with her errant leg that he hadn't noticed how far he'd pulled the covers off of her until, upon settling down, his eyes suddenly snapped to her breasts. Oh dear Merlin. Unhindered by undergarments, the soft orbs rested farther apart than when she was standing, the pert tips pointing outward. They were deliciously full, their organic shape so obvious beneath her simple white shirt, coming to more of a point than he had expected. _Not_ that he had been imagining her breasts. Well, at least not on purpose. And oh gods he was staring. What sort of _pervert_ was he? If she woke to find him looking at her like that, she'd be disgusted! What was he when compared to her youth and beauty, if not old and ugly? _Merlin._ And he was going to have to have sex with her.

Severus pulled the blankets up and turned onto his side, facing away from her. Desire and self-loathing were throbbing inside of him, fighting for dominance. And he didn't want either side to win. It seemed the only solution would be another dose of Dreamless Sleep. He hoped to the gods that Granger didn't wake up first again.

…*~*J*~*…

She dreamt that she was stirring a potion in the familiar dungeon classroom. The other students were blurred impressions in her peripheral, but the scent of the potion was clear. And yet, she could not define it. Somehow it just made sense that this was a generic 'Potion.' She was brewing it perfectly, as usual, and wanted the professor to notice. And suddenly he was behind her, leaning over her to gaze into the cauldron, placing a hand on her waist and one on the stirring rod as he pulled her back against him. The sudden closeness made her insides melt and she gasped, wondering if he could stir her the way he stirred a hot cauldron. She was tight in his embrace, melting right into the man himself.

When she woke, she was on his pillow. That infamous, long, black, greasy hair was tickling her nose, teasing her with the scent of the potion from her dream. Her insides twisted pleasantly at the thought. And then shock and embarrassment fell over her as she realized that she was practically spooning her professor. She rolled away in humiliation, heat rising through her skin, fanning off of her in waves. She sat up, staring down at the sleeping man. If she leaned over far enough, she could see his slack expression. His mouth was slightly open and long lashes rested against the dark bags under his eyes. _He's not so bad when he's asleep,_ she thought.

Quickly and quietly, Hermione rose and got ready for the day. Perhaps she'd spend it in the library, preparing for the term and watching snow drift by the windows. She loved to watch the snow fall. Anyway, she ought to be spending the time on something productive. Tomorrow, her friends would return to Hogwarts, and they would want to know all about her marriage.

It was nearly time for lunch, as Hermione poured over her Arithmancy notes from the comfort of her favorite table in the back of the library, when the sound of another studious person rifling through papers met her ears. She didn't think much of it until said person appeared, arms laden with books and scrolls, frowning in concentration at one of the papers. Professor Snape stopped short when he saw that she was there, hesitated, then turned on his heel and went in search of another table. She couldn't explain the odd emotion that came over her at that. Why on Earth should she feel so put out?

It was hard to concentrate on Arithmancy with her husband audibly rifling through parchment at the other end of the library. The sound made her inexplicably angry, as if every rustle were a reminder that he hadn't wanted to sit with her. And that was ridiculous, obviously, but it hurt all the same. Rather than her homework, Hermione found herself contemplating their relationship and how she was ever going to make it an agreeable one. Maybe it was time to extend the olive branch.

Packing up her belongings, Hermione lifted her chin and marched across the library. Every step seemed heavier and her resolve began to melt away the closer she came to _him_. And yet, when she finally reached his little nook, and he lifted his face to greet her with an annoyed expression and one eyebrow raised, she hadn't yet lost all of her nerve.

"What are you working on?"

His lips twisted with annoyance and he bowed his head once more. "_That_, Miss Granger, is none of your business."

"I was only curious," she continued in what she hoped was an encouraging tone.

"Far be it for me to leave your curiosity unsatisfied," he grumbled. "Very well, I am searching the Law in the hopes that something will provide an escape from our current predicament."

It was as if someone had dropped lead into her stomach. "Oh," was all she could say. Was he really so disgusted by the thought of sleeping with her that he would spend hours of his time studying legal documents and looking for a loophole? She brushed the thought aside, determined not to let him see the effect it had upon her. Resolved, she remembered why she had come over. "It's about time for lunch," she told him, biting her lip. It was important that she phrased this exactly right. "I was… wondering if you still wanted me to sit with you."

Severus Snape grew very still. She had the distinct impression that he had stopped himself from denying her outright and was now seriously considering all of the nuances of their situation. "I suppose it would be healthy to seek nourishment at some point today. Very well, Miss Granger. I will meet you in the Great Hall."

Hermione shuffled her feet. She wasn't about to march into the Great Hall and seat herself at the Head Table all alone, Gryffindor bravery or not. "Actually, sir," she began uncertainly, "I was hoping we could go together."

Those fiery black eyes snapped up to hers and seemed to take her measure for a long moment. She was almost culled into forgetting the whole thing by the time he spat out his answer. "Fine."

Every step toward the Great Hall seemed to weigh on Severus's nerves. Why had he accepted the silly chit's offer? Why hadn't he told her to go on without him? It would have given him the upper hand. He would have entered independently. Not to mention, had he changed his mind, he could have simply not shown up. But here they were, headed toward those double doors, side by side. He was careful to keep his pace just swift enough that she was stumbling along in his wake. And yet, they still were so obviously _together_. It hardly mattered, of course. By now, the entire school probably knew (even those away on holiday). Two high-profile figures of such striking contrast to one another getting married just after the passing of the Law? Of course it had been in the Prophet. Fortunately, so far they had only put in a standard announcement. He dreaded the day Skeeter decided to pick up the story. And what would happen if they failed to consummate the marriage properly? Could news of that get out? Would they turn it into a scandal? He would be humiliated.

Severus forcibly ejected Skeeter from his mind as they swept through the double doors and made their way down the length of the Great Hall. Granger was doing her best to look dignified while practically running to keep up with him. He smirked. There should be no doubt who had the power in this relationship. He would not have his students questioning his authority over his own bride.

When they reached the Head Table, Granger slipped him a secret scowl. Oh yes, she had noticed. He probably hadn't heard the end of it, either. Ah well. It was a small price to pay. He could deal with her, after all. She was no threat to him.

He caught Albus's eye and the old man winked at him. Severus froze as if he had been caught at the feast in his underwear. Then he scowled at his employer. No need to encourage the girl.

The few students sitting out in the Hall were whispering and shooting them curious glances. Severus scowled as he filled a plate. Miss Granger seemed thoroughly unbothered by the attention, which only annoyed him more. Of course, upon closer inspection, she did seem a bit tense, particularly when Minerva McGonagall arrived.

"Professor Snape," Minerva greeted formally, seating herself to the left of the girl. "Miss…" but the Transfiguration Mistress stopped herself, seeming to realize that the girl no longer went by that name. There was an awkward pause, but Minerva never got the chance to establish just what Granger's new name was before Filius Flitwick entered.

"Ah yes, good day Minerva, Severus," he said cheerfully, pulling out the one tall chair at the table. He paused to wink at the girl and added, "Hermione, dear. Welcome to the table." Hopping up into his seat, Filius rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Oh, I do love a good Shepherd's Pie. Minerva, would you pass the pumpkin juice?"

Pursing her lips together, the stern woman passed the jug without a word to her associate. Severus had the impression that she was trying very hard not to voice her opinion on the matter. And he didn't think the matter was the pumpkin juice.

He chanced a glance at his young wife. She was frozen with her fork halfway to her mouth, staring down at the table before her, lost in thought. Seeming to sense his gaze, the girl came to, looking up into his eyes. She seemed confused and a little worried.

"Professor," she addressed him, much to his immediate embarrassment, "I am still a student here, aren't I?" Severus was taken aback by her question, and it must have shown on his face. "I mean," she continued in a hurried tone, "I can understand not being able to continue my classes with _you_, but… surely my other classes…"

"You will not be withdrawn from any of your classes, M-," Severus cut himself off. He had been about to call her 'Miss Granger.' "So long as you receive your education, no one cares if you may have had an advantage."

"But…"

"Your NEWT scores will reflect your skill and your ability to retain information. Marriage to a professor will give you no advantage there." His lip curled back as a wicked thought occurred to him. "I hope you were not harboring such delusions."

Her wide eyes suddenly narrowed as her mouth slammed shut. "Of course I wasn't," she hissed. "The thought hadn't even occurred…"

"Yes, that much is obvious. One has to wonder just what _did_ occur to you, Miss… That is, what _did_ you expect to happen?"

Frowning, the girl turned away from him, choosing not to answer his impertinent question. He had the sudden impression that she was thinking of him as she speared her potatoes, and he allowed the faintest smile to touch his lips. Yes, he felt much better when he had the upper hand.

…*~*J*~*…

_Yay! Thank you so much for all of your support! You guys are awesome! Special Thank You to __**EyeofSerpent, evil-sensei iruka, Lana, shocabo, OzmaofOz, Mel, snap manic, Lunabeegood, whiterabbitmomiji, jensteed, Angelwells, Gemini Sister, musicgeek923, DutchGirl01, Her Royal Goddess, bluebook1496, Lost-puppyEYES, Sassyluv, Isode, bournespeed, SereniteRose, Pavi's Girl, Aithne, Bubblegum, Hannoie, vaila, Blue night fairy, Hada, Dahlia Rose-Marie, SeraphinaAngel, CrescentMoonShadow, Viteali Varishta, stexgirl2000, RhodaBush, bookworm661, doctorhodes, Broadwayfreak5357, Mikena, EveryoneNeedsAnAlpha, Lorna brownie, incoherentlove, Lyra lupin, articcat621, irononmaiden, gloryandfame, Perry Downing, Fantomette34, viola1701e, Amarenima Redwood, and several Guests**_ _for Reviewing my last Chapter! It really means the world to me! Also, you guys have the most interesting comments and questions. It's fascinating to hear what you think! _

_LOVE_

_:} llorolalluvia_


	8. Chapter 8

After lunch, they headed together down to their rooms. Their rooms. It still sounded strange. The room that she shared with Professor Snape. A more absurd roommate she'd be hard pressed to find.

He went straight into the bedroom and dropped a messy pile of parchment and scrolls onto one of his three desks. Hermione decided against stealing his chair while he was in the room and opted instead to read her book in bed. Snape started when he turned around and saw her there, but only for a second. Then he was pulling off his teaching robes and settling himself in the rickety chair before his desk.

It was odd. They were both reading quietly in their respective corners of the room. It was almost… companionable. Hermione chewed her lip, considering a question she had been wanting to ask him. He seemed in such a good mood today, perhaps it would be a good time.

"Professor?" she finally began. He only grunted in response. Hermione wasn't sure why, but she took that as a good sign. "I realize now that I shouldn't have borrowed your book without permission…" At that he looked up at her, meeting her gaze with a suspicious expression. "But I… I had a question for you. You see, I was reading a paper _you_ had written… the one about lacewing flies..." She paused, waiting for him to respond, but he only waited for her to continue. That was probably all the encouragement he was ever going to give. "Is it true that purer, stronger results may be obtained by using only the wings and discarding the bodies?"

"I believe that is a direct quote from the paper," he drawled impatiently.

She blushed. "Right. I… er… I suppose what I want to know is… if that is the case, why don't we do that in class?"

To her surprise, her professor sighed. "Yes, you might well ask that. Mostly, it's because the use of the wings, as opposed to whole flies, would not be acceptable during your exams."

"But… why? If it's a better way to do it…"

"The tests do not necessarily keep up with the latest research. They keep up with the textbook."

"But… that's our _education! _They can't just…"

"Miss Granger, I could go on at length about the politics of your education. I do not intend to do so."

"But…"

"No. It's a tired subject and I have no desire to spend my afternoon arguing with you." With one last calculating glance, he turned away from her and bent to study his papers once again.

"Yes, alright," she grumbled, pursing her lips and readjusting the book resting in her lap. Only, she couldn't concentrate on reading it anymore. So many questions were now flitting through her mind. She felt betrayed, somehow. It was the first time she had been led to believe that what she was taught was not exactly what was true. Of course, it made a funny sort of sense. At least it answered her questions about Harry's Advanced Potions book. If the text wasn't accurate to begin with, maybe this 'Prince' really was a potions prodigy. She hated to admit she had been wrong not to follow his instructions.

But that about the lacewing flies… She had been blown away by his research, and he hadn't let her finish reading the paper. It left so many questions. And she just couldn't help herself. "Professor?"

"What is it now, Granger?"

"I was just wondering… about the lacewing flies… does that mean that their bodies have no chemical or magical properties?"

He looked up at her at that. "Actually the bodies have basically the same properties as the wings, but in less concentrated amounts. The trouble is their organs become impurities in the finished potion, and their hairs can be detected in the texture. It isn't palatable."

"So do you use the same number of flies, but leave off the bodies? Or do you add more wings to compensate for them?"

At this, to her delight, her professor leaned back in his chair, linking his hands behind his head. "It depends on the potion. The bodies possess such a small quantity of the necessary compounds that the difference is minute to begin with. On the other hand, some potions do better with more flies than is usually prescribed, anyway. I am to the point in my career that I do not need a recipe. The potion communicates its needs to the brewer, if he only knows how to listen." 

"You make adjustments to all of your potions?"

"Most professional potioneers do. If they are worth the title."

"I suppose that makes sense. It's a bit like following a recipe from a cookbook."

His lip quirked up and his eyes slanted as if to patronize her. "Yes, Granger, it's exactly like a cookbook," he drawled.

Hermione hurried to continue before he could turn away. "Have you ever invented a new potion, Professor?"

"Dozens," he said, drawing out the words in a deep, velvety tone. The syllables seemed to vibrate in the air as he smirked arrogantly back at her.

"What sorts of potions?" she asked to cover the sudden thrill of nerves that had run down her spine.

"All sorts." His smirk grew and Hermione was certain she would not get any more information on the subject. But she didn't want to stop talking to the fascinating man. By Snape standards, this conversation had been almost… friendly. And yet, scrambling for something else to say, she found herself at a loss, and he turned away.

Hermione tried to return to her book, but she couldn't stop thinking about _him._ It was almost as if he were a different man. From this angle, she could just see the profile of his face as he bent in concentration over his desk. There was a seriousness in the frown on his face that was different from the anger she so often saw there. This was a man at work; a man putting his mind to a task; a man determined to avoid sleeping with her at the end of the week. _What is he so afraid of? _she wondered.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in relative silence, reading their respective material in their respective corners of the room. It was difficult to keep track of time without any windows, and neither of them seemed to notice that they'd missed dinner until Snape cast a Tempus Charm and smirked. He called for a House Elf named Moppy (ignoring Hermione's scowls) and had her bring down tea and sandwiches. The normally tidy young witch was surprised when he set her plate on the bed beside her, but she said nothing. After all, he had no table besides the three small desks that were piled with parchments.

"Milk?" her professor asked her, pouring tea into a cup. She blinked. Severus Snape was serving her tea.

"Yes please," she told him in breathless voice, thanking him when he handed it to her.

"Yes, well I'm not going to starve you," he grumbled. Then he poured his own cup, leaving it black and taking his plate back over to the desk. She was still watching his profile when his lips pulled back as if with a sudden humorous thought. "A galleon says that Minerva asks us why we didn't come to dinner."

His implication dawned on Hermione so abruptly that she nearly snorted her tea. Surely her other professors didn't think they were… oh Merlin. A nervous smile broke out across her lips. "You're on," she told him seriously. He didn't turn toward her, but she could still see half a grin. It made a funny tingling rise in her chest, and it took her a minute to realize that she was excited to see him smile. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared and Hermione found herself wondering why he felt like he had to hide.

She couldn't help laughing to herself about the absurdity of it all. She was sitting up in her professor's bed, nibbling on a sandwich, and watching his profile over the top of her book when his eyes suddenly squeezed shut and his shoulders hunched forward. She heard the slightest huff of air and knew immediately that he was somehow in pain. But before she could ask him if he was alright, the man had relaxed and slammed his cup down on the desk. Pushing his chair back, he stomped over to the wardrobe. She was afraid to ask him what was wrong, choosing instead to await his explanation.

"I must go," he told her in a gruff voice, and she watched in confusion as he pulled out a heavy winter cloak and headed for the door. It slammed behind him and Hermione sat gawking at the air, wondering why he had left so suddenly. A half-eaten sandwich still rested on his plate. And then she realized with a punch to the gut that he had been called away. He was off to visit Voldemort, himself, and she was sitting there eating sandwiches in bed. Suddenly, she wasn't hungry. Nervous fear was twisting in her stomach. Intellectually, she understood that he had such meetings all the time, and that it was very unlikely that he was in any real danger. And yet, the thought of what he had to face… _Merlin. _And to think she was worried about exams.

…*~*J*~*…

As the Order spy approached the Manor, he silently ticked off the objectives of this visit as he had discussed them earlier with Albus. Likely, there would not be many present tonight, as he was probably being called to account for his recent marriage. Stepping over the threshold, he cleared his mind, emptying it of any emotions attached to the girl and of all thoughts pertaining to the Headmaster.

"Ah, yes. Severus," Lord Voldemort hissed with cold nonchalance when he entered the Dining Room. What had once been the stage for elaborate feasts had now been repurposed as a sort of conference room, much grander than the basement kitchen of Twelve Grimmauld.

"My Lord," the Potions Master drawled as he took his seat. He was surprised to see that so many of his fellow Death Eaters were present, almost filling the long table. He wasn't sure if that was a good sign.

"Severuss," the Dark Lord repeated, toying with the name to draw out anticipation. "I hear we are to congratulate you." Severus bowed his head in acknowledgement. "It was a hasty arrangement, I suppose. You did not feel the need to inform me."

"Forgive me, my Lord. Dumbledore surprised me with his decision. I could not persuade him to delay."

"Yes. No doubt he believes she will be safest with you." A grin spread across that evil face as snickers whispered through the room. "A union between my spy and Potter's closest friend. He is playing right into my hand. Tell me, Severus, is your bride aware of your connection to me?"

"Indeed, my Lord, the girl has been allowed the same information as precious _Potter," _he snarled.

"Good. She must be made to trust you." He fingered a nearly non-existent chin and stared off, deep in thought. "And has the marriage been consummated?"

Severus was careful not to hesitate. "Not yet, my Lord. I thought it best to await your counsel on the matter. The Law only requires that it happen within the week."

"Yes. I thought as much. You will express reluctance. Do only what is required and try your best to please her." He paused, shooting his spy a doubtful look, to the delight of the others present. "Or, rather, be sure that she believes that you are trying. If she learns to trust you, she may begin to confide in you."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Of course, if she begins to _initiate_…" he continued doubtfully, a grin spreading wickedly across his face as the others laughed at his expense, "you are welcome to indulge her." The mockery stabbed at his insides with the familiar knife of self-loathing, but he only nodded in response.

"Now then," Lord Voldemort continued. "This Law comes as a surprise, but we will endeavor to make use of it. The old fool has given us an unexpectedly convenient start, but I intend to exploit this new law to its full potential. Certain contacts at the Ministry are working as we speak to acquire a complete list of all those who are subject to the law so that I may best determine our next move. It is my hope that this little detour from the plan will aid our progress in more ways than one."

Dolohov cornered him after the meeting with one scarred arm across his path. "Snape," he growled, searching Severus greedily with his eyes, "got anything for me?"

Severus smirked. "I do. The same as last time. I brought it in case you wanted more."

"'Course I bloody want it. Come on." He gestured for his brother to follow him out of the Manor, and they Apparated to a familiar street. It was a quiet night. Few people were scattered about the small pub when they strode through the doors. Antonin went straight to the bar, and Severus sent a glance around the room.

A trio of aging wenches sat playing cards and laughing loudly at a table near the bar. They might proposition him after this game, but for the moment they were occupied. At the counter, a hag and a couple of miserable-looking wizards hunched over their respective pints, and one fat drunk was passed out in the corner. None of them had taken much notice of the newcomers, and he could easily beat any one of them in a duel. The barkeep, himself, was a familiar face and one that did not concern Severus overmuch. He wasn't likely to trouble them. Yes, as far as Knockturn Alley went, there was no immediate threat.

Sweeping over to a shadowy corner, Severus chose a chair with his back to the wall and facing the door. Once again, he slipped a hand into one of many inner pockets to assure himself that his All-Purpose Sobering Up Potion was there. He had it on hand at all times, just in case, but habitually found himself checking to be sure.

The table wobbled dangerously when his scrawny, sunken-eyed brother set down two frothing pints of beer. "Alright then. Let's see it," he said.

Severus withdrew a stoppered blue vial from his robes and passed it over. His comrade pretended to inspect it (as if he knew the first thing about it) before carefully pulling out the cork and wafting the scent of it under his nose. It was painfully obvious how anxious he was by the greedy glint in his eyes as he dug a hand in his pocket, withdrawing a small crystal stirring rod. Even with shaking hands, he was very precise; dipping the rounded head of the rod into the potion and giving it a practiced flick to shake one drop into Severus's beer. Repeating the process for his own, he corked the vial and raised a toast.

"To the Dark Lord," he murmured offhandedly, watching for Severus to take the first sip. It was customary for him to partake of the first serving whenever he brought potions to his brothers. After all, for all they knew, he could be a traitor.

The irony was that he gathered some of his most important intel just sitting in their parlour or the pub.

Almost immediately, a feeling of warmth washed down Severus's spine. The worries of his life faded into distant echoes and he was suddenly struck by how beautiful the flickering candles were. What a miraculous world they inhabited, where a force such as fire could be harnessed with wax and held in the palm of your hand. Why would he ever want to throw away the life he had here in this magical, beautiful place?

"Fuck," Antonin growled, slamming his mug down and leaning his head back against the wall. Severus was inclined to agree with him. He was in no state to return to his wife right now. Indeed, he was in no state to _think_ about her.

…*~*J*~*…

Hermione's socked feet were numb with cold as she paced the dungeon bedroom, but she hardly noticed. Professor Snape had been gone for hours. At what point did she sound the alarm? Honestly, he should have briefed her about this at the very least. _Impossible man! _How dare he run off and leave her to worry without offering any explanation? But, of course, if she hadn't been married to him, she wouldn't have known he had gone, and she wouldn't be worried at all. It probably happened all the time. Really, it was ridiculous for her to be so concerned about him.

But she was.

For the first hour or so, she had been able to continue her book. As time progressed, however, it became more and more difficult to concentrate. Her mind kept jumping back to the realization that he was with Voldemort at that very moment, and all she could think about was whether or not he was ok.

It was nearly four o'clock in the morning when her professor stumbled through the door. He was moving sluggishly, grasping his way around the wall with his hands, and at first she thought he was hurt. Gryffindor instinct overtook her, and she hurried to his side. In a flash, he spun toward her, swinging an arm out in defense. Before she even had the chance to stop, the menacing wizard had his wand pointed at her throat. Her limbs froze so fast she almost collapsed onto the floor. But he only gasped with sudden relief. "_Fuck_ Granger! D'you've death wish?" The man dropped his pose, leaning heavily against the bed frame and attempting to pull off his heavy cloak.

It took a moment before Hermione's breathing started again and her heart panged hard in her chest. "Sorry, Professor," she breathed. But he had already dismissed her. Turning toward the bed, he was crouched over, reaching down in what seemed to be a futile attempt at removing his boots. He was _drunk_. Horrified, Hermione didn't know how to react. Should she offer to help? Should she leave the room? Should she get Professor Dumbledore?

No. That was ridiculous. She was his wife now, and she could handle him on her own.

Professor Snape eventually managed to free himself of his boots and climb onto the bed, collapsing onto his back and stretching out with a long, low growl. The sound made Hermione's face grow hot. His eyes were clenched tight, as if with pain, and his whole body tensed for a moment before relaxing with a soft grunt of relief. Her heart was hammering audibly in her chest when one heavy eyelid lifted to reveal a dark black eye. "You're up late," he growled.

The absurdity of his words broke through Hermione's stupor and brought her anger to the surface once again. "I-Well of course I'm up late! Did you think I would be able to sleep with you… out there?"

Her professor didn't answer. He was frowning at her now, but his eyes were searching her body, not her face. "You aren't wearing that to bed, are you?" he asked.

"I… _what?_" Hermione's eyes darted down to her overlarge t-shirt and cotton leggings. "Of course I am! What's wrong with it?"

But the man only groaned, slapping a hand over his face.

Something inside of her exploded. "Don't you do that! Don't you even _do_ that! You're always looking down on me like some… big…" she waved her arms frantically, looking for the word "_vulture_! Well, I've been waiting up all night for you to get home, so I don't have the patience left to deal with your judgment right now. I don't know what you expected when I moved in, but I'm not some _pet_ you can boss around. This is my home too now, and I'm going to wear whatever I bloody well please!"

He didn't respond. His hand was still over his eyes and his mouth was slack. She froze, watching him breathe in and out; slow, shallow breaths. _Oh!_ _The nerve!_ She almost stamped her foot. How dare he fall asleep when she was talking to him?! For a long minute she stood there, debating what to do. The only thing that kept her from railing at him was literally biting her tongue. But as she reluctantly accepted her powerlessness, another concern leapt to the forefront of her mind. Her professor was stretched out in the middle of the bed.

Hermione paced up and down the room, as if looking for something else she needed to do before going to sleep. But she had already done everything. Stopping again at the foot of the bed, it dawned on her that it was time to face the inevitable. Anyway, Snape was dead asleep, so it hardly mattered. Slowly, cautiously, she climbed up the mattress, insinuation herself between the wall and his jutting knee. If she slept a little lower down the bed, she could just curl around it. The heavy quilt was bunched up at the foot of the bed, and she dislodged it, pulling it over the two of them as best she could.

When she realized she was effectively tucking Snape into bed, she had to laugh. _How odd._ Would she ever get used to this? She tried to remember the last time she had shared a bed with another person. Could it really be her parents, back when she had been a child? Nothing else came to mind. At some point she had slept in a bed with her cousins, but that was different, too. With this fully grown wizard passed out in a drunken stupor close beside her, Hermione had never felt more like a trespasser in her life. Would he be angry with her for seeing him so drunk? She certainly hoped not.

Weariness began to settle over her like a blanket as she watched his profile, her breath slowly synchronizing with his. She waved a wand to snuff out the candles, but left the fire slowly burning down to embers. It allowed just enough light to watch the shadows dancing on his face. With his lips parted and his eyelids gently closed, he looked nothing so much as tired. All the fierceness and the anger… all the _worry_ was absent while he slept. And she had a very strange thought as she was drifting off to sleep. How could she possibly stay angry with him when he looked so goddamn sweet?

…*~*J*~*…

_Sorry this update took so long! I'm getting ready to move back to Georgia (NYC has a lot to offer, but I'd rather spend my time with my family and my energy working for more than just my rent), so I've been too stressed to be inspired. I hope this chapter doesn't come across that way. Also, please don't think that I'm some junkie for using the theme of drugs. After all, the Death Eaters almost certainly did some crazy shit, and I felt like it was appropriate for their Potions Master brother to be their supplier. Besides, doesn't it make sense that he would use that role to secure his standing in their ranks? I'd be interested to hear your thoughts. _

_Once again __**Thank You So Much **__if you sent me a Review. They're like candy to me, so I hope you know I appreciate them even if I don't usually respond. When people say nice things I get all shy and don't know what to say, so I'm saying it here. I really do appreciate you guys! So thank you so much __**jensteed, TimeyWimeyBadWolf, Simona Polle, just an anon reader, FireStarter-Incendio, Claery, dignifiedyetunrefined, LoveInTheBattleField, giada, soulofthelostisland, Sassyluv, recey2010, Lyra Lupin, Browneyed-Redhair Baby, DutchGirl01, bluebook1496, incoherentlove, viola1701e, bookworm661, EyeOfSerpent, Ravendaughter, cares 1970, ahemmeri, enfys1979, Fantomette34, meg527, Mikena, Perry Downing, Mel, Vaila, stexgirl2000, Viteali Varishta, marzipan4, Brightki, Hannoie, OzmaofOz, articcat621, Amarenima Redwood, **__and several __**Guests**__! Your usernames are like familiar faces to me and some of them are even added to my dictionary because Works keeps wanting to Autocorrect them. Haha… not to be creepy… _

_LOVE_

_:} llorolalluvia_


	9. Chapter 9

...*~*J*~*…

Hermione slept lightly that night. Despite her exhaustion, her cramped position on the bed made it impossible to relax. She couldn't seem to stay asleep for long before she was waking up again to twist her body into increasingly uncomfortable poses. It didn't help that her professor seemed to be doing the exact same thing. Over the course of the night, her little slice of the mattress grew smaller and smaller until sometime around dawn when she finally pulled herself up as far as she could on the bed and pressed her back against the length of the wall. . Somehow, this seemed to do the trick. She was finally out; succumbing to the tug of darkness behind her eyes.

Her dreams were anxious; full of her friends' faces and the classes that were soon to resume. Snape prowled the dungeons, deducted points, and then slipped away to fight the dark lord all alone. Suddenly, she was there with him, tugging on his robes, digging her heels into the ground, begging him to come back home. Home to her four poster bed up in Gryffindor tower, where he was so out of place. She was afraid her friends would see, so she hid him behind her scarlet curtains, and crouched beside him on the mattress. Stretching out, they were crowded into the tiny bed, pressed up against one another. She was staring into his eyes. Dark black eyes that seemed to bore into her soul. And then he leaned toward her and her heart skipped a beat as their lips came together. A sudden heat blossomed deep inside her, and she found herself kissing him back like it was the most natural thing in the world. He was so warm, and his lips were soft, and their contact teased a primal urge somewhere deep inside her. When she pressed herself closer to him, he let out a ragged groan. Desire erupted from a cage somewhere within her, and the unfamiliar emotion was shocking enough to wake her up.

The chilly air of the dungeon bedroom kissed the flush in her cheeks even as she registered her current situation. She caught her breath mid-gasp, suddenly afraid that she might wake the sleeping Potions Master. It wouldn't be difficult to accomplish, in fact, as his face was presently buried between her breasts. For a moment, she was frozen in shock. But as she absorbed the situation, heat pulsed deep within her body. It was a strange sort of anxiousness that she had felt sometime before. But she had never understood what the feeling was. Until now. The dark-haired wizard had one leg pushed between hers and one hand clutching her waist. His face was pressed between her breasts, where his labored breathing fell hot across her skin even through the thin cotton of her shirt. And something else, hard and insistent, was pressed against her thigh. The embarrassed flush that followed this realization only heightened her arousal. Right now, in the blurry uncertainty of waking consciousness, it was so easy to recall her vivid dream. She nearly moaned.

And then, sober reality began to hammer into her brain, reminding her just who this man was, and telling her that such fantasies were unrealistic. Her desire evaporated at the thought, disappearing into the lockbox from which it had come, and leaving behind a cold trail of fear in its wake. What would he say when he woke to find her like this? Humiliation pulsed in her very blood. He had been drunk the night before. He hadn't meant to touch her. And what was worse, there was no way she could slip out without waking him. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. _Ohhh.. Damn him! Why did he have to go and get drunk? This is not. My. Fault. _Hermione wracked her brain for some way out of this situation. If she pretended to be asleep, would he believe it? He was a spy for Merlin's sake! And yet, if she tried to escape right now, it would certainly wake him. It seemed she had no other options. She would just have to wait it out. Pretending to be asleep. For however long it took. Just lying there… with her professor's face buried in her breasts and his… his… his _erection_ very insistent upon her thigh.

Resigned, Hermione closed her eyes and focused on breathing. _One, two, three… maybe if I fall back asleep? Four, five … not bloody likely… six, seven, eight… that was a very odd dream… nine, ten… not… unpleasant… _Her mind began replaying images from the dream. Snape kissing her, Snape groaning into her ear. At first she was disturbed by what her subconscious had revealed. Married to him or not, she was NOT supposed to be attracted to Professor Snape. What would her friends think? What would _he_ think? And yet.. well… she _was_ married to him, after all. Was it so bad for her to _want _to do what they would so soon have to do? …If he didn't find a way around the Law. The thought leeched her rekindling arousal so fast that she opened her eyes. Severus Snape would never want her. He must despise her intensely to spend so much time pouring over legal documents. Suddenly, she was ashamed for having fantasized about him. He would be revolted if he knew.

…*~*J*~*…

The fuzzy mumble of half-forgotten dreams slowly died away in the wake of a piercing headache. His tongue felt like sandpaper, it was so dry, and despair seemed to burn in the core of his soul. So dazed was his hung-over mind that it took him a moment to notice that the soft orbs pressed against his face were not a pillow. He froze. Feeling came back into his limbs, and with it the feel of the slender body pressed against him. And the full, round, firm breasts so soft that he wanted to suck on them. His cock pulsed hard against her leg, but that peak of arousal was answered by an equal stab of misery. It took all of his bodily strength to roll away from the girl. _Granger. _Another jolt of arousal was followed by a sinking iciness in his chest that made him nauseous.

Breathing hard, he collapsed against the mattress on his side of the bed. It was hard to tell if the girl was awake, but at the moment he didn't care. All he could focus on was breathing and not letting the world spin all around him. _This is not worth it_, he thought for the hundredth time. Of course, Albus might have a different opinion. Dolohov had expressed some very interesting concerns in his potion-induced haze. It was a wonder they never noticed that Mellotos Elixir contained Veritaserum as well. It had taken years to build an immunity to the truth serum, but inventing his Elixir had been the work of several weeks.

Closing his eyes, Severus focused on breathing. _In. One, two, three… Out. One, two, three… _Slowly, mercifully, he sank back into oblivion.

When Severus woke up the second time, he was alone. He could tell from the ache in his bones that it was late in the day, but that wasn't unusual after a night of taking potions. He had learned long ago that the after-effects of any potion were equal to and opposite the immediate ones. No matter how much he experimented, nothing ever seemed to change that fact. Perhaps that was owing to his own psychology. When compared to the high a potion could provide, the truth of his real life would always be a low. And his real life was low to begin with.

He groaned. If he had taken the All-Purpose Sober-Up Potion last night, he wouldn't have slept a wink, but the pain would be over by now. The downside of that emergency provision was that the low was immediate, and the result was nearly unbearable. A gradual re-introduction to reality was always preferable when it wasn't a matter of life or death. Of course, it had been a risk, coming back to Granger in that state. He froze. _Granger._ He had woken up that morning with her breasts in his face. He groaned. The immediate arousal was accompanied by a stab of self-loathing at the thought. He pulled a hand down his face in humiliation. At the time, he had not bothered to take note of her state of consciousness, but now it seemed obvious that she couldn't possibly have been asleep.

Severus avoided Granger for the remainder of the day. The rest of the brats would be showing up soon, and he already had a headache. Albus did nothing to help that, of course, but the Headmaster was pleased with the information he presented. Well, at least his misery wouldn't be for nothing. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember the feeling of peace he had had the night before. But it was no use. Doubt and denial crushed even the slightest glimmer of the emotion that the Mellotos gave so freely. And so he cursed and blamed the world for seeping every happiness away like the pit of despair that it was. Had he not had a crucial role to play, he might have gone back to sleep for good and escaped this world altogether. It was Albus who nurtured the tiny part of him that still cared. The old manipulator knew exactly how to stroke his ego in just the right way to make this whole ordeal seem worth it; if only for a while.

As he approached the Great Hall that evening, the excited racket of happy voices assaulted his attention. Their echoes throbbed inside his mind, behind his eyes, and made him grit his teeth and ball his fists in angry frustration. He would take Lord Voldemort any day over the unmerited excitement of children.

Severus nearly stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of Potter and Weasley. Quelling the instinct, he pressed on, raking his eyes across the Entrance Hall for any glimpse of _her_. But she was not to be found. That must have been what the two imbeciles were awaiting, for they ran toward him as soon as they saw him approaching.

"Where's Hermione?" Potter demanded.

Severus folded his arms across his chest and lifted an eyebrow in disdain. "Chained in the dungeon, where a good wife ought to be," he drawled, delighting in their horrified expressions.

"You slimy _bas_…"

"Calm yourself, Weasley. It would be a pity to lose House Points so soon after returning from your holiday."

"_Where _is Hermione?" Potter repeated, more forcefully. His fists were balled into knots at his sides, and his temple looked ready to burst with the pressure that was building there.

Severus sneered. "She is my _wife_, not my broomstick. I don't put her away when I'm done with her."

At that, Weasley lunged toward his professor, stopping only when Potter latched onto his robes. "No, Ron!"

Severus was about to tell Potter to teach his dog to heel when Granger suddenly appeared beside him. Her unanticipated arrival made his gut sink sharply as a flush rose unexpectedly to his cheeks. He hoped to all the gods she had not heard what he'd said to the boys.

But the girl only seemed excited to see her friends. "Harry! Ron" she greeted, throwing her arms around the boys each in turn. Severus suddenly felt like an intruder upon their intimacy. Normally, this would be his cue to slip away, but he suddenly recalled too vividly the way her breasts felt pressed against him and anger ignited inside him as the boys each held her close.

"Enough," he croaked, rage obstructing his voice. "Granger, you're coming with me."

The girl swung around to face him with a glare and for a moment he was afraid she would decline. But he met her eyes, daring her in a glance to defy him openly, and she finally blushed, dropping her gaze and nodding slightly. "I'll talk to you later," she told the boys. They tried to protest, but she hushed them, stepping past her husband and leading right into the Great Hall.

Given the choice, Severus chose _not_ to enter the Hall in her wake. The last thing he needed was rumors that the Head of Slytherin was being led by the balls. Instead, he took the opportunity to address the insolent brats now glaring up at him with hate. "Like it or not, Miss Granger belongs to me, now," he seethed. "And you will do best not to _touch_ her… _ever," _he paused for emphasis, "again."

…*~*J*~*…

Hermione was halfway down the aisle that stretched the length of the Great Hall when she realized that her professor wasn't following. Her step faltered, but she caught herself before she stopped and made a fool of herself. There were enough eyes on her, already, without doubling back for her wayward husband. Instead, she lifted her chin, ignored the buzz of whispering, and marched all the way up to the High Table alone. It would seem the school was caught up on the latest bit of gossip involving their least favorite professor and his least favorite student. She had hoped the news would be lost in the onslaught of new marriages that had come about due to the new law, but it was quite a scandal, she supposed. The thought tugged at the pit of her stomach. Merlin forbid Rita Skeeter decide to pick up the story.

When Snape finally swept up to the platform and settled in his seat, Hermione gave him a reproachful glare. "Was that really necessary?"

He smirked. "What? Scolding your little boyfriends?"

"Making me walk up here all alone. What do you mean you were scolding them?"

"I wasn't aware you required an escort."

"Well of _course_ I don't…" she broke off, taking a calming breath. "You know what I mean. _Everyone_ is talking about us."

"Do you imagine they would talk _less_ if we skipped down the hall together, holding hands?"

Hermione had been about to say something else, but froze at the humorous image. There was something very strange about Snape making a joke. It was as if he had flipped a switch. "Pity we didn't plan ahead, or you could have put me on a leash," she quipped.

Snape choked into his water goblet, drawing McGonagall's eye. "Don't tempt me," he growled back in a dangerous voice. Hermione hid a smirk behind a sip of pumpkin juice.

"Good of you to come tonight, Severus," the Transfigurations Mistress remarked acidly, scowling at her colleague. Hermione's interest was immediately piqued.

Snape grimaced. "All those cheerful faces freshly returned from holiday? How could I miss it?" His tone was dry, but Flitwick laughed, and Hermione was surprised to hear him remark on his own infamously foul demeanor. It was as if… he were in on the joke.

"Yes, well," McGonagall's expression was so pinched she might have eaten something sour, "seeing as you didn't _bother_ attending yesterday…"

_Rats_, Hermione thought. _I owe him a Galleon._

…*~*J*~*…

_Thank you all so much for your continued support/just for reading my story! Forgive me for taking so long between chapters. I'm back in GA and finally settling into a rhythm, so I should be able to update more often. Plus, life is slower and less chaotic here, so I'm likely to be more inspired to write. The City, as great as it is, is not my ideal creative environment. Maybe for others; not for me. SO a SPECIAL thank you to __**nacy3451, OzmaofOz, The Butterfly Dreamer, Favreau, pepperann333, Luna de Papel, Gemini Sister, 09sasha, JM2010, bluebook1496, Viteali Varishta, mama123, Lyra Lupin, Dahlia Rose-Marie, shocabo, LoveInTheBattleField, Blue night fairy, meg527, Jennydownes3, just an anon reader, articcat621, Mel, kaida171, Phyllidia, BlueWater5, Shelle007, Ante162, lornabrownie, Darlene, bookworm661, Hannoie, Mikena, lunarose87, Bluebeast73, EyeOfSerpent, TimeyWimeyBadWolf, DutchGirl01, Perry Downing, PurpleFlowers305, giada, ahemmeri, marianna79, Dentelle, Brightki, marzipan4, Petite Mule, rivruskende, viola1701e, Sassyluv, incoherentlove, Fantomette34, IShouldBeWritingSomethingElse, Simona Polle, RhodaBush, Amarenima Redwood, doctor odes, and several Guests**__ for Reviewing my last chapter! Your comments really help me stay on track. And a few of you actually PMed me over the last few weeks. I really appreciate it, guys. When I take too long between chapters, I start to feel like people won't even notice if I don't post again, so it's really nice to see that y'all really are interested in my story. I hope you liked this chapter! I'd love to hear your thoughts. _

_LOVE_

_:} llorolalluvia_


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